Underdogs
by Imageination
Summary: Instead of the Undersiders, a team of heroes- That's the choice that Coil makes on the eve of the start of his plan, producing a butterfly effect that permanently changes the cape scene of Brockton Bay. Rated T for violence. I do not own Worm.
1. Prologue: Night of Your Life

Prologue: Night of Your Life

Thomas Calvert ran for his life. It didn't matter where, or how. He ran. And they were right behind him.

Ellisburg was alive with Nilbog's creations. The creatures were everywhere, climbing on walls, hopping along rooftops, bashing through doors, sewer drains, windows, everywhere. He even saw a few dig right out of the dirt and gravel, spewing debris as they came. They all cackled and screeched as they charged- some sounded in pain, others roaring with glee, but ultimately it all blended together into an all-consuming wall of white noise.

They'd been idiots, fools, to believe that they could take on someone like this. And now they were paying the price. Calvert hopped over the corpse of a fellow PRT agent, whose body was swarming with hockey-puck sized insects that tore away at his flesh. He was apparently still alive, and his wail sliced through the air and burned itself into Calvert's conscience. But he didn't stop, kept running, and kept dodging. He might be a monster for doing it, but he was the monster who was going to make it out of Ellisburg alive.

"_Wipe them all out, my children! Cleanse our garden! Destroy the interlopers for your king!_" Nilbog roared from somewhere across town, impossibly loud over the already massive din. A thought that one of Nilbog's creatures might be able to amplify his voice flew through Calvert's mind before drowning in the baseline instincts for survival that flooded his brain.

What was left of Squad Three- Calvert's squad- were all running beside him. Most of their faces had looks of terror that matched his own. Clade, the squad leader, was in front of the rest, a rifle in one hand and flashlight in the other, shining its weak beam of light out into the drenching rain.

Ah, the rain. If they only had enough problems already, the rain made every surface slick, every corridor covered in shadow and impossible to look down. To his right, Calvert watched as Tam slipped and fell, screaming as Nilbog's creatures reached him and did whatever they did when they caught their prey.

"Where are the capes?" Calvert shouted at Clade. "Shouldn't they be covering out retreat?" Nilbog's creatures would decimate any humdrum PRT squad, but they would have a harder time against parahumans.

"Not here!" Clade shouted back, almost slipping and falling as he did so. "They all cleared out when this whole operation went to hell!"

No capes? They'd… left them behind. Calvert's anger blazed at the departed heroes. Where were they, with their almighty powers, when he and the rest of the normal humans were running for their lives from these abominations?

"This way! The evacuation site is this way!" Clade rounded a corner, Calvert and the rest following. There were seven of them now. "Only a few blocks now!"

It took about three seconds for Calvert to lift up in a half-hearted hope that they were going to make it, before it was dashed back into the ground at the sight of what awaited around the corner. Three of Nilbog's creations were waiting for them on the other end of the street. One of them was a bloated monstrosity, easily seven feet tall and shaped like a beach ball. Another, a smaller, rounded creature with innumerable small, hooked legs and hundreds of tiny insect-like wings was perched on a streetlight nearby. The third was humanoid in height and shape and had skin like black, cracked glass. They all screeched as they saw the incoming PRT agent.

Clade didn't waste a moment, lifting up his rifle and firing multiple rounds into the head of the bloated creature. It roared in pain and fell over, its body exploding into a grotesque green liquid as it hit the ground. The liquid was apparently acidic, it sizzled when it hit the ground, eating away at the pavement and into whatever was below- sewers, subways, another monster den, maybe? Fortunately, Calvert remembered that the PRT uniforms protected against most forms of acid. He hoped.

Noticing its fallen friend, the winged creature shrieked loudly, a sound like breaking glass, and took flight, its thousands of tiny wings making sounds like a buzzing bee as it flew to a nearby rooftop. Not a threat, for the moment, anyway.

One creature, the cracked-glass thing, stood in their way. The thing grunted and flicked out its right arm, sending shards of whatever it was made of flying at the PRT squad. One shard slashed into Clade's shoulder, eliciting a loud cry of pain from the officer. Another impaled Jazz' throat. He hit the ground, not moving, not even making a sound as he fell. Six remaining agents, now.

Someone with one of those new containment foam launchers- Quince, probably- launched a jet of the foam at the glass creature before it could strike again. It went down under the white cloud, struggling futilely as the futuristic foam solidified rapidly and trapped it in place. The foam would either disintegrate naturally by itself or just stay there until someone figured a way to break through it, Calvert didn't quite remember which. He didn't really care, anyway.

Calvert ran to Clade's side- his bleeding shoulder was not a pretty sight, and he'd dropped his flashlight, which was dissolving in the green liquid on the ground. "I'll be alright," he said, standing up with a good deal of difficulty and a grunt of pain, "Now let's get out of here." Slightly leaning on Calvert's shoulder, the two kept moving forward, surrounded by the remaining agents, weapons brandished.

"Four blocks!" Clade shouted as they passed another row of buildings. On cue, the crowd of monsters that had been chasing them rounded the corner they'd passed only a little while ago, screeching in glee as they found their prey once more. "Keep going!" Clade shouted.

"_Purge the garden, my children! We must have our paradise to ourselves!_" Nilbog roared, his booming voice once again cutting through the air like a knife through cardboard. A buzzing sound began to fill the air, much closer than the cacophony of the incoming crowd of monsters. Calvert realized too late that it was the insect-thing they'd left behind with the other creatures, and it swooped down and carted off Mard, the agent screaming as he went. Calvert watched as the insect alighted on the nearby rooftop with its prey, only to be dogpiled by several other monsters who also wanted a piece of the action. Five agents left.

They ran another block, and the sound of the helicopter began to sound over the downpour and the screech of the pack behind them. Then another block, and another, and Calvert began to let himself hope that they'd make it out. It might actually be possible.

The helicopter emerged from the gloom and rain, hovering above a small park in the middle of a rectangle of villas, its blades slicing through the incoming droplets, its ladder hanging low, ready to receive. "Hurry!" Someone on the 'copter shouted down to them. "They're not far behind!"

Quince reached the ladder first, making it up in a matter of seconds. Myst was next, his hand almost slipping on one of the rungs, but he too made it to the helicopter, and Null was right behind him. That left just Calvert and Clade.

"You go first. You won't make it if I leave you behind." Calvert said to Clade, feeling incredulous as he did so. Why was he letting someone else go before him? All that mattered now was making it into that helicopter.

Clade nodded and started climbing, but it was immediately clear that his wounded shoulder wouldn't make his ascent fast. Calvert climbed on behind him, one hand on the ladder and the other on his gun, pointing into the mist in the way they had come.

Then the creatures emerged from the mist, first in twos and threes, then the whole pack, only two blocks away and closing fast. Calvert fired a few rounds into the crowd, downed one or two, but they kept coming uninhibited. He dropped the rifle to the ground, it wouldn't be of much use anymore.

And they were only halfway up the ladder; Clade's ascent was agonizingly slow with his wounded shoulder. "Come on, come on!" Calvert shouted at him, panic rising in his chest. "Come on, Clade!"

The monsters charged, only a block away, then only a half. It would be mere moments before they reached the ladder. And they were only three quarters of the way up, the agents in the helicopter shouting at Calvert and Clade to hurry up.

Calvert wanted to scream, cry and fight all at once. He watched Clade, the man groaning in pain as he moved up another rung. Then all warmth and nicety left his body. Reaching for his sidearm, Calvert grabbed the pistol and pointed it upwards, aiming it at Clade's head. "What are you doing, man?" Someone shouted from up in the helicopter, but Calvert could barely hear it.

The monsters reached the ladder, and Calvert pulled the trigger.

Clade barely caught his breath as the bullet slammed into the back of his skull. He lost his grip on the ladder, plummeted towards the monsters below, who cried raucously at their newfound prey, swiping their claws as he fell.

As Clade hit the ground, Calvert woke up.

…

Calvert shot up in his chair, gasping for breath. It took him a moment to realize he was in the office of his home. His home in Brockton Bay, not a park in Ellisburg surrounded by monstrosities.

Years later, that nightmare still found him every now and then. Memories came rushing in- shooting Clade, leaving his body behind, and climbing onto the helicopter to his angry teammates. Being court-martialed and removed from the PRT, no legal trouble ensuing as a result of the PR department wanting to keep the disaster of a mission hush-hush. Talking with "Lady", A.K.A. Emily Piggot, the only survivor of the mission not in Squad Three, while they both recovered in the hospital, her from physical damage, him from psychological. Ironically, Emily was now the PRT Director in the city he now lived in.

Calvert stretched, loosening his stiff muscles from sleeping in a chair. He read the analog clock on his desk- 2:00 AM in the morning. But he didn't get up and go to bed. He had to finish his plan.

Ever since being unceremoniously exiled from the PRT and the subsequent letter from Accord, Coil had been planning. Planning to take down Brockton Bay's corrupt PRT, its quibbling government, its aging Protectorate. They'd all go down, and he'd rise from the ashes as the new leader of the port city. As Coil.

Many stages of the plan were already complete- the money had been taken care of years ago, his power allowing him to bet big bids on sporting events and win every time. His operatives were in the works. He'd already recruited several- Circus, Trainwreck, the Travelers- and had lined up funds and inquiries for others in the future. The designs for his base of operations were complete and framed on the wall before him, with several disposable copies at the ready.

But his plan was still missing something. The whole operation needed a face, a spearhead. Coil was planning on staying in the shadows as this all unfolded, right up until the end of his debut as the new owner of Brockton Bay. So the operation needed a public image, something that would convey his plans while still keeping his involvement a secret until the time was right. He'd been up since late last night trying to pinpoint exactly what this flaw is his plan needed, to no avail.

With his mind stalled, memories of Ellisburg once again flowed into it. But above all, strangely, was the memory of the capes who had come along for the operation leaving the PRT agents for dead, fleeing like the scumbags they were. Not quite heroes by any definition.

Then the thought struck him. "A team of heroes." Coil said to himself. And it fit. That was what his plan still needed. A team of heroes that could outdo the Protectorate, Wards, and PRT any day of the week. A team of heroes willing to do what other's wouldn't to get justice served. A team of heroes that had been rejected by the Protectorate and all its golden glory, for someone reason or another. A team of outcasts that would rise to the top, praising Coil's glories as they went. Looking through his files of potential operatives, Coil identified a fitting group of misfits in a matter of moments.

It was the perfect plan. Even so, it would take a lot of effort, and a lot of luck. Fortunately, Coil's power took care of both of those things.

He got to work immediately.

...

**It's finally ready!**

**First of all, this is a Worm AU fic. It's essentially Coil deciding to make a team of heroes instead of the Undersiders. This is indeed a prologue, and I'll probably add the first official chapter sometime next week. Underdogs is set to run for about fifty chapters, but it may be longer or shorter depending on how I feel, and I'll probably write a sequel.**

**Skitter, Lung, Armsmaster... They're all still there. Just... not quite as you remember them. Hope you'll all stick with me long enough for that line to make sense!**

**-Imageination**


	2. C1P1: Welcome to Brockton Bay

**Hey guys! For those of you who read the prologue and are reading this now, thanks for reviewing, following, and fav'ing! This is the first official chapter, and I hope it's enough to grab your interest. Enjoy!**

...

Chapter 1, Part 1: Welcome to Brockton Bay

_Click. Bang!_

The starter gun sounds, and I'm off like a shot, racing down the track, wind rushing through my hair, adrenaline pulsing in my veins. My cleats pound on the track, propelling me along as I race with my teammates. The sun is beating down and sweat is starting to run into my eyes, but this is still and always the best part of my day.

We're on the track at Winslow High, Brockton Bay. The track and field team of all the poor kids in the city, but still able to outdo those rich brats at Arcadia any day of the week. Even after being on the team for months, that sweet feeling of watching the Arcadia fans' faces fall as we beat them every single time still gets me pumped.

But we're not racing right now, not competing. Just practicing. Short sprints, push-ups, calisthenics, all that slow-going stuff. And it's killing me, not being able to compete, to go at full speed and break limits. My body is raging against going this slowly, but I fight it down. It's a struggle, but I fight it down. And all the time, along that sprint on the track, my body is screaming, begging to go faster, to quit this slow crap.

Is that confusing for you? Maybe a little. I'll try to explain a little better.

Here in Brockton Bay, and just about everywhere else, nowadays, we have capes. Parahumans, if you want to be politically correct, but most people just call them capes. They're a long story that I've never really paid attention to, but, in short, they have powers. Superpowers. Flight, super-strength, space warping, force fields, laser beams, all that good stuff from your average 50's cartoon. They're our protectors and champions- and also the things that go bump in the night.

I'm a cape, too. Ever since I almost got hit by a bus a year ago, I've had the power to move. Really, really _fast_. And my body adapted so I can take the strain. I need to do maybe one push-up a week to have a full set of abs, and I can take a paintball to the face and not even get bruised. My friends at school think I'm gifted, some kind of perfect gene cocktail of physical traits. They'd only have to take one look at my parents to see otherwise, but I like to keep up the illusion that I'm some kind of Superman. It makes me feel cool.

Speaking of Supermans, the main cape scene here in Brockton is the Protectorate, a nation-wide coalition of all the best-meaning heroes. They have a program for minors called the Wards, which runs out of the Parahuman Response Team- the PRT- Building in the ritziest part of town. I've always had the option to join, and it would be easy, too.

But… I've never felt the conviction. It's a well-known fact that the PR heads over at the Protectorate make it so that the Wards have to blunt their powers and abilities to keep their spots on the team- avoid any lethal applications, and stay away from dangerous weaponry if they have access to any. Hold themselves back, don't go full tilt. And I'm not about to join a team that would keep me from my full potential.

But none of that is on my mind right now. I shake my head side to side a little, clearing it from all those thoughts of capes and powers. Just get back to the race.

Aron Cassidy flies past me, shooting his classic pretty-boy smile as he does. No way am I going to let him get away with that. Even though we're teammates, in no way are we friends. "Rivals" or maybe "frenemies" would be better words to describe our rather complicated relationship. And Aron's a transfer from Arcadia, no less- got sent here after spray-painting _something_ all over the walls of one of their gymnasiums. (I did say 'one of'- there's more than one, of course.) Little cocky rich boy thinks he can come down here and walk all over us- well, everyone gets what they're due, right?

"See you later, Tilmitt." He calls back to me, racing ahead. Yeah, right. As if he thinks it would be that easy. I pour on the speed, rocketing after him. And all this time, I'm thinking. It would be so easy to just let out a little of my power, so easy to just let go and be free. Be me. Race past that rich brat, race around him again, and again…

I stop myself before I can think about it anymore. I made a pact not to let people know that I have powers except under the most straining of circumstances. And even showing a little bit of my power could reveal way too much- I tend to make sonic booms when I'm really going.

But even when I'm not using my power, I can still clear a block before Aron even crosses that first paving stone. I pass him effortlessly, streaming down the track and crossing the finish line first, with all the appropriate bluster and pizzazz.

Aron crosses the line a few moments later, his face red with exertion, panting. I don't say anything, just flash him an exaggeratedly cocky smile, remind him that little Winslow me can beat Arcadia him without breaking a sweat. He frowns, but doesn't say anything either- this suck-up over there isn't about to bad-mouth me in front of the coach.

"Tilmitt, Cassidy! Good job out there. You two are looking to be serious competition for the rest of these slowpokes when we move on to championships."

Speak of the devil.

Coach Craven comes up next to us, holding a clipboard in one hand off to the side. Aron and I are pretty tall, but Craven still towers over us. Unlike me, he's legitimately one of those perfect-gene-cocktail people. I bet he could bench press a truck if he put his mind to it- maybe he even has.

"Thanks, coach." Says Aron in most annoying teachers-pet voice. He can anyone to like him and he knows it- everyone except me. Unfortunately, Coach Craven is not quite as immune to his charms as I am. "Though I bet Tilmitt here probably needs to run a few more laps; he's going to need it if he wants to get us through the qualifiers." An insult and a compliment at the same time- this guy really knew how to get under my skin.

Craven smiled and laughed, while I fought down the urge to roll my eyes, throw up, or both. It was so incredibly irritating, how those two got on like old friends. The fact that Craven was never particularly nice or supportive to me didn't do much to soften the blow. "Maybe next time, Cassidy. Both of you hit the showers and get changed- we have a big day coming up on Friday and I want everyone well rested."

I don't say anything, just nod and start walking towards the school. The other guys have reached the end of the track by now, talking or stopping to catch their breath. Aron stays behind to talk with the coach. He says something I can't hear, and Craven laughs again. It makes my blood boil. I've always been better than Aron, yet the coach has always seemed to like him better. Ability over appearance, I always say. Not that either of them seem to care.

I shower fast- no offense to anyone who likes it, but being in an enclosed space with a bunch of wet, naked guys isn't exactly my idea of a party- and pull on my clothes quickly, putting away my track outfit in my locker. I don't know why, but having a locker all to myself, and just for the track team, makes me feel more official, more grounded. I make a deep and satisfied sigh as I twist the lock closed.

"Hey, Matt!" Someone calls from behind me. I spin and see Jeremy. He's the shortest member of the team, clocking in at only five foot three, but he works harder than anyone to make up for it. Right now, he's wearing a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else, slicking up his hair with a comb, his hand wet with hair gel. It makes me more than a little uncomfortable, but I decide to ignore it for the moment.

"What's up?" I say. Jeremy's a nice guy, but he and I don't have many common interests other than track, so we don't talk much. As a result, I'm interested in what he has to say.

"There's some girl by the locker room doors, says she's here for you." Jeremy points with his eyes towards the way out of the locker room. "Not sure why anyone would want to see you, dude. You're all kinds of ugly!" He laughs, a loud snort you could hear from halfway across the country. I just smile and roll my eyes.

"There's a girl by the door, and you went to see her in just a towel?"

Jeremy chuckles again. "Dude, if a girl's here to check out the track team, you go to see her, towel or no towel." I raise an eyebrow, and his face reddens as he realizes what he just said. "Ha ha. Very funny, you know I didn't mean it like that. I'm gonna go get dressed." He saunters off, slicking back his hair with his comb as he goes.

_That Jeremy_, I think to myself, _what a charmer_. But what he said definitely piqued my curiosity. There's a girl here to see me? Is it something related to the track team? Or, the doubt crosses my mind for just a second; does she know I have powers? But I push it out of my mind, because that thought is too terrifying to contemplate. Being outed as a cape will open up a big can of worms that me- and my family- are not prepared to deal with. Groups on both sides of the law will want a piece of me.

With that thought in the back of my mind, I start walking towards the exit.

As Jeremy promised, there is indeed a girl waiting for me outside in the hallway. She's leaning on a locker on the opposite end of the hall, twiddling something between her fingers. She's tall and pretty, with delicate features, a long nose, short-cut light brown hair and hazel eyes, and a curvy figure. Her age is hard to put down, she could be anywhere from in her late teens to her early thirties.

I barely make a sound stepping out into the hallway, but her head immediately perks up, noticing me. "Matthew Tilmitt?" She says, like she's known me her whole life. Her voice is nice too, an even, smooth tone with the slightest edges of fun to it. "Or should I call you Matt?"

"Matt is fine." I say, walking over to her, backpack slung over my shoulder, hands in my pockets. She's a pretty girl, but something about her puts me on edge. "You send Jeremy looking for me?"

"The boy in the towel?" The girl says, scrunching up her nose and giggling. "Yeah, that was me. Silly kid, thinking he could impress me or something."

"That would be him." I say, trying to keep my voice even. "I hope you asked him to get dressed."

The girl giggles again. I fight to keep my nerves from jumping every time she moves or makes a noise. "I had a hard time tracking you down, believe me." She says absentmindedly.

At this point, I've had enough. Enough with this witty banter, let's cut to the chase as to why giggle-girl came to see me. "So what do you want with me?" I ask.

The girl's face immediately loses any traces of humor, and she stands straight up, looking straight at me. There's a creepy fluidness to her movements that I can't quite put down. "A lot of things, Matt, but mainly to give you this." With a flick of her fingers, she sends a small white object flying through the air. I catch it before I know what I'm doing. What if it's a bomb or something?

Still, curiosity gets the better of me. I look down at it and realize it's a card, like the ones you'd find advertising businesses in stores and doctor's offices. There's only writing on one side, and not a whole lot of it, but hand-written with a dark blue pen.

"_I believe it's time we showed the world what you can really do, Matthew. Don't you agree? If so, I've arranged a meeting in the alleyway in the Docks. You know the one."_

_-Coil."_

My blood runs cold. Because that alleyway in the Docks is where I trained with my powers when I was still struggling to use them. The Docks are mainly slums, full of small-time street gangs and back-alley doctors. Ironically, it's a stone's throw from the Boardwalk, the touristy section of town.

That alleyway was the perfect place for a cape-in-training. On either side were abandoned apartments, and in the middle was a big courtyard for running. It was quiet, and secretive.

Or so I'd thought.

The fact that someone had been watching me, had seen me, sends a shiver down my spine. And who is this Coil guy? What's with his name? Is it a cape name? And yet… the offer was tempting. If the guy wanted to help me work with my powers, without any PRT supervision, it could be the chance to break free that I'd been waiting for. Of course, it could just be a trap to get me to join one of those parahuman gangs that are always running around Brockton's underbelly.

My mind swimming with questions, I looked up. The girl was gone. Not even a trace, not even a sound left in her wake. Just gone. Spooky.

By then, I'd made up my mind, though. I was going to have to meet this guy whether or not his offer was genuine. If it was, it could be a great opportunity. And if not, and someone knew my identity, I had to do something about it.

After I'd gotten my powers, I'd taken a few self-defense classes just in case something like this ever happened. So if this Coil guy was planning on blackmailing me, I would be ready to show him what I can _really _do.

…

I cruise through the front door of my house, throwing down my bag as I go. I'd made my decision to face this Coil guy, so I had to move fast before I lost my nerve. Had to get to my room and get my stuff if I wanted to be ready.

"Hey, little bro! Back so soon from track?" A voice called from the living room.

Crap. My resolve melted away as I moved into the living room to see my sister. More specifically, my older sister- Like, goes-to-college-and-can-drink-and-drive older- Michaela. She was sitting on the couch, scratching our family cat, Carly, behind the ears. Carly's a nice cat, but she's always been skittish about me touching her. It _might _have been related to the fact that I had a habit of pulling her tail when I was younger.

Regardless, she still meowed as she saw me. Michaela looked up at me, smiling. She looks a lot like I do, which is saying we both look like our dad- tall, light brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, and freckles. I'm not a huge fan of the way I like, but I don't really care enough to do anything about it.

Michaela attends college outside the city, far enough away that she has to stay in a dorm, but managed to work her schedule so that she's home two days out of the week.

"Have a nice day running?" She asks. Michaela's the best kind of older sibling: She'll ask you how you're doing without prying into every little nook and cranny like a parent or younger sibling would.

"Fine." I say simply, noticing the TV's on. They're apparently still covering the scandal that's been going on for a few days now.

A few days ago, the Wards took on the Merchants- one of the city's lower-threat powered gangs. It was going smoothly until one of the Wards, a tall black girl called Shadow Stalker, lost her mask when a stray attack caught her face at the right angle. And the Merchants' inventor, Squealer, happened to have a camera going that was recording the whole incident and transmitting it to live news.

Apparently, Shadow Stalker is a girl named Sophia Hess, who attends Winslow High right alongside me. I remember vaguely having a study hall with her a few years ago, but not enough so really remember anything about her other than what she looked like. She's been keeping her head down since the incident, but lots of rumors have been flying around school and the whole city since.

And there you have it, a Ward unmasked. This is yet another reason that I'm not big on joining them anytime soon.

"I have to go back out." I say quickly, running towards the stairs that head up to my room.

"Pick up some milk for Carly while you're out! Be careful, bro!" Michaela calls out after me. Always a great big sister.

Dashing into my room, I throw open my closet, finding what I came for: My cape costume. Just because I'm not in the hero business doesn't mean I can't have a costume for special circumstances.

My costume's simple, but fitting: It's a full-length bodysuit like the ones people wear when they're parachuting, to be able to hold up against the strain of my speed. On top is a fighter pilot helmet, both to conceal my identity and to protect my face from high winds- I may be at least somewhat super-durable, but wind rushing in your face at over a hundred miles an hour still hurts. I'd spray painted the suit grey-black, with orange bands going down the shoulders and sleeves. There were pockets for my phone and any other small objects I might need.

It had taken a good deal of allowance money and a few suspicious glances from my parents, but I'd finished it. It also served as a decent backup Halloween costume.

I throw off my clothes and get dressed- just about the only downside of the costume is it's skintight, so the only thing that fits under it is my underwear and a tank top. As always when I put it on, I stand in front of the mirror for a few seconds. But only a few. "Ability over appearance," I repeat to myself.

Alright. No more stalling, it's time to go. Moving to my window, I undo the latch and slip outside. Our roof is pretty steep, but there are lots of handholds to climb on, and I make it up easily.

Standing on the top of my roof, I take a moment to drink in the sights. Our house in on the South side of town, which is mostly small apartments and houses like ours. But I can still see the skyline from my house. The sun is setting, and buildings are starting to light up. It's all really pretty to see.

I smile. And then I jump off the roof.

I might have forgotten to mention that my power also lets me fly just as fast as I run. As I plummet towards the ground, I scream happily as I finally break free.

Without me imposing any limits, my power surges through my body, and my adrenaline pulses as gravity suddenly starts to ignore me. It's not easy, flying, it's harder than running. I have to strain for every inch, but my body is up to the task, and within moments I'm hovering in midair, a few meters off the ground of my backyard.

Flying was a bit harder to train than running, since it's a bit easier to see a flying teenager than one running in an alleyway. But over the months I was able to find ways around the city's cape surveillance systems and patrols that still let me fly freely. I'd taken the path many times back when I had just gotten my powers.

Rising up into the air, I kick off towards downtown. There's a big construction site between my house and the shopping district, which is how I cover most of the distance between home and the water. On the building site, the lights are dim and the workers too busy to look up anyway, so it's an easy flyover.

I'm coming up to the Boardwalk now. This is the fanciest area of town, sprawling with overpriced cafés and boutiques that my family couldn't afford a weekend's spending in. I don't dawdle long, shooting out onto the water. It's a bit out of my way, but I haven't flown in weeks and my body is screaming to get some exercise done.

I cruise along at a low altitude, avoiding the occasional fishing boat or cruise liner in the bay. Then comes the fun part.

Swinging back around, I launch at full speed back towards the boardwalk, a sonic boom exploding in my wake. I laugh loudly, my voice and all the noise around me completely obscured by the burst of sound. I'm not worried about being heard- there's a storm incoming, and the tourists on the Boardwalk will probably assume it's distant thunder, if the sound of the waves on the shore don't block it out completely.

It feels like paradise, finally letting all my concerns and limitations go after weeks of keeping it in and not showing my full potential.

Flying at full speed, I'm like a human bullet as I race across the surf. Gaining altitude to make it over the boardwalk, I rocket over the strip of shops in a matter of seconds.

The change from the Boardwalk to the Docks is immediately noticeable. Ritzy hotels and restaurants give way to dirty tenements and shady nightclubs. Fortunately, it's not a far flight. Within moments, I reach my destination.

The alleyway with the courtyard in the center stretches out beneath me, ready to be received. No one seems to be there, but for all I know they could be hiding in one of the abandoned houses on either side. Dropping into a hover, I breathe out deeply, my body descending to the ground below as my power leaves me. I feel exhilarated and exhausted at the same time- flying is hard work, even after months of training.

As I land on one end of the alley, I start to have second thoughts. What if this "Coil" guy isn't on the level? What if we have to fight and he has a gun? I'm pretty fast, but I might not be fast enough. And, finally, what if someone else entirely is waiting for me here?

But I've already made my decision, and I'm not going back on it now. Hands balling into fists, I walk into the center courtyard. It's exactly as I remember it, dirty and unclean, with two unused dumpsters in one corner. Memories flood through my mind of training in this yard for weeks on end, only stopping when my body simply refused to go anymore. _The good old days_, I think to myself.

"Hello?" I call out tentatively, feeling stupid immediately afterwards. What kind of genius walks into a dark alley alone and then calls out to see if anyone's there? I pivot slowly, seeing if there's anyone around that I'm missing. Nobody. I'm completely alone.

The tenements come back to mind. Hovering with only the smallest amounts of my flight power, I glide past the windows of the alleyway's apartments, trying to see if there's anyone inside. As when I first found the place, they're all empty and abandoned.

Frustration growing, I fly to a nearby rooftop overlooking the courtyard, on the opposite side from the dumpsters. "Anybody here?" I yell, a little louder than before. I'm annoyed enough with the situation to not particularly care about my safety anymore.

That's when I notice it. It's the only spot of anything that's not covered with grime. An immaculate piece of paper is pinned to one of the dumpsters. Something's written on it in the same blue color from Coil's note, but I can't read it from where I'm standing.

Swooping down to retrieve it, I pluck the paper off its holding pin and fly back to the spot I'd just been in. Up close, I can confirm that it's once again in Coil's blue writing. But instead of a note, it's a series of names.

_Samuel Vasil._

_Angela McMillar._

_Emily Vasquez. _That name vaguely rings a bell in my head, but I can't quite put it down.

_Taylor Hebert._

_Jason Verner_. Again, vague memories, but nothing substantial.

And at the bottom is my name. _Matthew Tilmitt_. Once again, the fact that someone has seemingly been watching me sends a chill down my spine. And these other names. Who are they? Are they Coil's operatives? Other chosen kids like me? Or something else entirely?

As I'm mulling over the note's implications in my head, a spider crawls across the paper. I flick it away, sending it flying to some remote corner of the roof. Then I notice another bug on the paper, then another. I wave the note, sending them both flying. What is with these bugs?

My nerves are more than a little on edge at this point. I find another bug, a beetle, crawling on my shin, kick it away. Then there's a stick bug on my arm. I'm not a big fan of insects, and this is creeping me out more than I'd like. _What kind of plan have I gotten myself into?_ I think.

And that's when I hear the slightest of rustling sounds behind me. I whirl, and what I see is definitely not what I was expecting tonight.

...

**Wow... a lot of things I want to say, and so little brain capacity left to articulate them with.**

**Meet the first of our protagonists, Matt Tilmitt. He'll be narrating the first chapter of Underdogs, after which I'll be flip-flopping between the various protagonists. You should recognize two of our six "Chosen ones" now, and some might even have suspicions on a third. I'd like to see ideas on codenames and powers in the reviews section, so be sure to leave a comment!**

**Underdogs will, probably, be updating at least once on a weekly basis, the gaps between chapters increasing or decreasing depending on how much real life gets in the way. I'll try to stick to a weekly schedule, but, again, no promises. **

**The next two sections are set to get a little more action-y. Hope you stick around long enough to enjoy it!**

**See ya!**

**-Imageination **


	3. C1P2: Meet the Misfits

**Hey guys! For those of you who have been sticking with me, thanks for reading! And for those of you who are just tuning in now, shame on you! Go back to the beginning!**

**I introduce a lot of new characters, most of them OC's, in this chapter. I hope I established Taylor decently, she's a complex character who's tough to write fanfiction for. Tell me what you think! Enjoy the chapter!**

...

Chapter 1, Part 2: Meet the Misfits

It's a girl I see, first of all. But it's a bit more complicated than that.

She's tall, about my height, with dark brown hair that falls in tangled masses over her shoulders and down her back. And, like me, she's wearing a costume.

Hers is sleek, steel grey, with shoulder pads, segmented pieces of what looks like armor on the torso and legs, and tiny bits of fabric sticking out here and there that make it look like an insect exoskeleton. The only thing the bodysuit doesn't cover are the tips of her fingers and her upper neck. A vaguely heart-shaped mask, the same color as the bodysuit, covers her face, with sloping bits on the bottom that look like insect mandibles. She stares at me through yellowish gold lenses.

And surrounding her are bugs. Hundreds and thousands of them, maybe even millions. They crawl on the ground, they buzz in the air, and they climb on top of one another. Not a single one touches her, though, and none of them make a move towards me, though I'm pretty sure plenty of insects in the swarm are aggressive by nature.

I take this all in in about three seconds. Then I scream in surprise and jump backwards, a little bit of my flight power launching me to the edge of the roof. I'm hanging backwards now, almost about to fall, but I brace myself and stand up straight. I'm hoping she can't see my face turning red under my helmet- that was definitely an embarrassing display.

I lean forward, ready to launch myself at- what do I call her? I have no idea if she's an established villain, solo hero, or still a complete no-name like me, but she's definitely got an insect motif going on over there. 'Bug girl' seems like a good start.

So, again, I lean forward, ready to launch myself in bug girl's direction if she gets any ideas. Still, none of the insects make a move towards me. If anything, they start to retreat back towards her. It's incredibly weird and unnerving, how they all seem to move and act in synch without even trying.

"Who are you?" I yell at the bug girl, fighting to keep my voice even. Bugs already creep me out, but a whole swarm of them? "What do you want? Did Coil send you?"

"Coil?" The girl responds. Her voice is soft and intelligent, with the slightest bit of surprise to it. Still, I can't read her expression with that mask on her face. "I came here looking for Coil. I thought _he _sent _you_." Before I can say anything to respond to that, the strangest thing happens.

The swarm surrounding bug girl disperses in all directions, crawling down walls and into windows, through cracks in the roof we're standing on, or flying away if they happen to have wings. I even see a few of the winged insects carrying a few of the bugs that can't fly. The coordination is uncanny.

Bug-girl starts taking a few steps towards me, slowly and methodically, like she's walking on eggshells. We're now about ten feet apart, and I tense up, not sure what to anticipate. She doesn't seem to have any better of an idea of what's going on than I do, but my instincts still tell me she's dangerous, for one reason or another. "Don't come any closer," I warn in my most dangerous-sounding growl, "Or I'll hit you. And it'll hurt a lot, trust me."

Bug girl stops moving towards me, throwing up her hands like she's being held up by the cops or something. "I don't want any trouble." She says, simply.

Yeah right. Like I'm going to trust her that easily. "You seem to be able to say that awfully easily for someone who just snuck up on _me_." I respond, growling again.

"Sorry." She responds, lowering her hands and backing up a few steps. I relax in the slightest, but don't let my guard down. I haven't had the best luck today with mysterious girls who go bump in the night, so no way am I about to take any chances.

Bug girl clears her throat, like she's about to say something important. "Sorry, again. I didn't mean to spook you, I was about to introduce myself when you noticed me. Also, sorry about my bugs, my power tends to get away from me when I'm not paying attention to it, and I'm already a little on edge from being in the Docks."

"What do you want?" I ask. Might as well cut to the chase; this little Mexican standoff we've got going on here isn't benefitting anyone, least of all me.

"Judging by how neither of us seem to have any idea of what's going on, probably the same thing as you." She responds, grabbing something out of a pouch on her belt. Two brightly-colored butterflies flutter down from the pockets of insects buzzing in the air around bug-girl. Grabbing hold of the object she's holding, they carry it over to me daintily- it's another of Coil's cards, like the one giggle-girl gave to me. The writing on this card is a little longer than mine, in the same immaculate blue script.

"_Taylor- if you're reading this I assume you've been reacquainted with Trainwreck and discovered the secret of the Wards' poisonous ally, Shadow Stalker, i.e. Sophia Hess. I know the hell she's put you through in your days at school. And I know the rage you must feel at discovering that the Protectorate would enable such a monster to do as she pleases. If you want to do something about it- and my instincts tell me you do- you'll meet me for a little meeting I have arranged in the same place you first met Trainwreck._

_-Coil."_

Reading the note, several things click into place in my mind at the same time. A couple of months ago, there was a… _incident_ at school. A girl was found trapped in a locker, covered with used sanitary pads and bloody tampons, screaming her head off. E.M.T.'s carted her off to the hospital, and she returned to school the week after, seemingly okay. Whoever did it never came forward about it, and the girl who it had happened to never said a word, either. Apparently, she was a no-name girl in Winslow's social hierarchy who mostly kept to herself. I had known her name at the time, but had forgotten it since.

And now I remembered it again. "Taylor. Taylor Hebert," I say, pointing at bug girl, "That's your name. Isn't it."

Taylor nods, slowly and tentatively, like revealing her secret identity to someone else has her a little nervous. "I… triggered on that day." She says slowly, softer than before. "But you probably pieced that together already."

"I thought Shadow Stalker was just a girl that hit a bad turn. There's a bit more to it than that, though, isn't there?" I ask, my mouth setting itself into a grim line.

Taylor's pretty far away and it's starting to get dark, but I can still see her hands balling into fists at the mention of Sophia's code name. "That girl and her friends have tortured me for _two. Freaking. Years_." She says, quietly and dangerously. "You think that was bad? You don't know the half of it." She laughs, but it's entirely devoid of humor.

And suddenly, Taylor, the social pariah, the creepy bug-controlling girl, takes on an entirely new perspective from me. It's all I can do to not rush over and hug her, the kind of crap I can only imagine she's gone through. So I try to change the subject instead, swallowing hard. "So who's Trainwreck? Is he one of Coil's guys? How'd you meet him?" I say.

"He's allegedly a member of the Merchants, but it was pretty clear after I met him that he's something else entirely." Taylor responds. "A few weeks ago, my first night as a cape, actually, I tried to take on the ABB." She's talking about the Azn Bad Boys, a primarily non-parahuman gang that runs out of right here in the Docks and only accepts Asians or people of Asian descent. Their leader, Lung, is a cape who's firmly on the Protectorate's no-fight list. Why, exactly, I've never bothered to find out, but it automatically informs one that the dude is dangerous stuff. Other than that, I don't know much about them.

"Lung was leading the group that I stumbled upon, directing a small meeting right down there in the courtyard," Taylor continues, pointing to the courtyard we're currently looking out over, "I tried to attack, and it went…badly, to say the least." She laughs again, but this time it's genuine. "Then Trainwreck showed up and saved me, got me out of there. Lung tried to follow us, but his power only really works if he's being actively opposed, so we lost him pretty quickly.

"After we were safe, he handed me a card that just read 'Coil' on it, saying that his boss had been looking to recruit up-and-coming heroes like me, and that he'd be keeping one eye on me. He also said to look at the card again when the time was right, said I'd know when that was. And then he was gone." The two butterflies that had been carrying the card fly back to Taylor, perching on her wrists.

"Today, when they had that broadcast about Shadow Stalker, the card… _changed_." Taylor points at the card in my hand. "What is says now is what you're reading."

"Huh. Weird." I say simply. And it is. Must be something cape-made, designed to change appearance with specific sound cues. Does Coil have a parahuman inventor working for him? _Maybe that's how he found me_, I think to myself.

"And speaking of notes, what's on that page that you found by the dumpster?" Taylor asks. "I tried to get my bugs to take a look at it, but I'm not great at seeing through their eyes yet."

So she can 'see' through the eyes and ears of the bugs she controls? This just keeps getting better and better. But I push those thoughts out of my mind and lift up Coil's paper. "It's a list of names, and we're both on it. Maybe these are those 'up-and-coming' heroes Trainwreck told you about?" Taylor nods in agreement.

It leaves an impression on me that Coil apparently considers me an 'up-and-coming hero', given that this is my first time in public with a costume on. If Coil is assembling what looks like a team of heroes, that could have groundbreaking impacts on the future of Taylor and I, and whoever else he's put out invitations to.

Then a thought strikes me. "I know all about you, but you know nothing about me." I say the words as I think them. "My name's Matt. We go to school together." It's a little weak, but an attempt to connect is an attempt to connect.

But Taylor's body language seems to perk up ever the slightest anyway." Oh, Matt Tilmitt, right? You run track." She responds. "Could I see that paper for a second?"

"Sure." I say, getting ready to walk it over to her- I'm not particularly concerned about getting close to her anymore. But before I can even make two steps, a small swarm of bees comes flying down and snatches the paper from my hands. I yelp and stumble backwards, almost falling off the roof once again. Talking with Taylor is feeling more relaxed, but her freaky power still sets me on edge. Why couldn't she control birds? Or puppies, or something? Just a thought.

Taylor plucks the paper from her airborne servants, reading it over quickly. She seems to be turning it over in her head, but my patience is wearing pretty thin from standing on a rooftop with a girl who controls creepy-crawlies when I want to be finding out who exactly is sending us all these notes. But before I can say anything, Taylor pipes up again.

"One of these names," She says quickly, "One of these names I think I recognize. Emily Vasquez. Some story in the news-"

Taylor stops midsentence, standing straight up. "What? What is it?" I ask.

"There's someone here, hiding in one of the apartments on… that side of the alley," Taylor responds, pointing my right (and her left), "And you'll probably think I'm crazy, but it feels to me like she has _wings_."

"Honestly?" I respond. "That's probably the most normal part of this evening for me." In a world where you live with people who can shoot laser beams from their eyes, you have to take things in stride sometimes. "But how can you tell it's a _she_?"

"I have bugs crawling on her here and there. I can feel what they feel." Taylor responds, like it should be common knowledge. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "And she's isn't wearing a lot, so I had to put some of the bugs on her bare skin. So either she's used to bugs crawling on her or she's figured out how my power works and is just ignoring it." Taylor pauses for a second. "I'm not sure what's weirder."

A girl with wings, who doesn't respond to bugs crawling on her? I'd say this night just lost any chance of turning out on the up side of normal. "Well, like it or not, we have to go check it out." I respond. "Either she's another 'chosen one' like us or she's one of Coil's agents, most likely."

Taylor nods in agreement. "I saw you flying around before, got any way of getting us over there quickly?"

"Easy." I respond, zipping over and grabbing Taylor around the waist before she can protest. I tap into my power and feel my adrenaline pulsing once again. We take off, a bit wobbly at first- I'm not used to flying while carrying things, particularly a living being the same size as me- but I figure it out before long, and we're shooting down the row of apartments.

"She's in the building all the way at the end, on the left, top floor!" Taylor shouts over to me, apparently unperturbed by being unwillingly carried by a flying vigilante. "There's a window on the street side!"

"Got it!" I respond, pouring on a little speed. We shoot over the building Taylor specified and loop around, headed for the only window on the top floor. It's open, thankfully, but not particularly large, and I have to grasp Taylor tightly to my chest if I want us to make it. As I do so, my raging boy hormones can't help but notice how curvy and muscular Taylor is, especially for a gawky nerd-girl. But I push those thoughts out of my mind- this is _definitely_ not the right time to be checking out girls.

And it only lasts for a couple seconds as we fly through the window into a big, open, unlit room, the only feature in it a stairwell leading down on the other side, a bannister fencing it off. Which leads to one of the weirder sights of my life.

Taylor wasn't kidding. There is indeed a girl with wings sitting in the corner of the room. They're not angel-type wings, though, more like bird wings, complete with feathers. They start at her lower shoulder and run along the length of her arms, glossy and golden brown. The skin on her skinny arms and boney legs is covered with a similar downy coat of feathers. Her hands end in pointed claws, while her feet are large and three-toed, with long nails like talons. She wears a purple tank top and a similarly-colored pair of shorts, which exposes much of her birdlike physique.

Her face, on the other hand, is mostly human. She has piercing green eyes, a lot more colorful than mine, and dark brown hair which falls in innumerable tiny braids down her back. How she makes her hair that fancy with those hand-claws of hers is beyond me. Her face is tan, maybe Caucasian or Hispanic, with a small nose and mouth.

Unless she's wearing a _really_ good costume, she's obviously a cape of some sort. But I've never heard of capes whose powers makes physical modifications to their body- at least, not without the use of their powers first. So the wings and talons are confusing, to say the least.

"So you found me." Bird-girl says simply. Her voice is strange: high pitched and off-key, like wind blowing through the trees or something. "I'm assuming you were invited to come here, like me? If this Coil guy is the kind of person who sends invitations at clandestine locations via robot drones, I'm pretty sure his agents aren't just going to sit on rooftops talking to each other."

I can feel my face reddening again, hoping that the darkness of the room obscures it. Were we _that _conspicuous? And what did the bird girl say about robot drones? I look over at Taylor, but she's apparently deep in thought.

"You got an invitation from Coil too?" I ask. Anything to break the awkward silence.

In response, bird-girl fishes out yet another of those white cards out of a pocket in her shorts. "A little flying drone delivered this to me while I was patrolling on the Boardwalk this morning." She says.

"Patrolling… that's it!" Taylor suddenly speaks up, prompting the both of us to look over at her. "You're Emily Vasquez! Or Harpy, if you prefer the code name they gave you. You're that solo hero who patrols the fringes of town. I read a newspaper article a year or two ago on you."

"You can just call me Emily." Emily responds, standing up slowly. She's smaller than Taylor and I, but still at a decent height. "I've never liked the name 'Harpy'. It feels sort of cliché whenever I hear it." She points a claw at the list of names, which is still is Taylor's hand. "What's that you got there? Something else from our anonymous benefactor?"

Taylor nods, holding it up so Emily can see. "It's a list of names, and we're all on it. I think we forgot to introduce ourselves, incidentally. I'm Taylor, and this is Matt." She says, pointing to me.

Emily nods, but doesn't respond. Apparently knowing our names isn't worth her time. She walks over to Taylor and grabs the paper out of her hand without asking for permission. I notice Taylor shrink back ever so slightly when Emily grabs the note- apparently she's not much more comfortable being in the same room as bird-girl then I am.

"I don't recognize any of the other names on this list." Emily says after a long silence. She doesn't follow this statement up with anything else.

Taylor turns to me, staring at me through those gold lenses again. "It's looking more and more like that list of names is a bunch of kids like us- rookie heroes and wannabes- that Coil is gathering together for… something." She says.

I nod in agreement. "We should probably stay on our guard. Even if Coil just wants a meeting, this is ABB territory. I don't think they'll be very happy if they find a bunch of rookie heroes on their turf." I don't know much about Lung or anyone who works for him, but judging by what Taylor's told me, he's a pretty scary dude. I don't think Emily, Taylor and I working together could stand a chance against him, let alone anyone else who Coil's invited to this little pow-wow.

"If the other people are going to be arriving soon, maybe we should fan out and look for them? Might make this waiting process a little faster." Taylor suggests. "One of them might even know a little more about what's going on than we do."

I'm about to agree, when a voice from behind us cuts me off.

"No need to start looking. I'm right here."

I spin around to see who it is. Standing right in the window frame Taylor and I had just flown through is a guy in a costume. His is pitch black and skintight, made of what looks like Kevlar. Thin golden wires run down his arms, connecting the flat black shoulder pads on his armor to silvery gauntlets that cover his hands. His face is covered by a simple black mask with bulging red goggles that glow with a soft light. His suit covers his entire body- there isn't a single patch of skin or hair that I can spot.

It's a pretty terrifying effect overall, mysterious and intimidating, and I back up a few steps as he jumps down from the frame to stand on the floor in front of us. "You didn't see him with your bugs?" I ask Taylor, not taking my eyes off of Kevlar dude.

"I wasn't 'looking'." Taylor replies. Emily stays silent- if she knew he was there, she isn't saying anything. "You don't look like ABB." She says to Kevlar dude, who stays silent, his arms crossed across his chest. "And you're not Trainwreck. Wait- is he the guy that found you?" She asks me. I shake my head no- this is definitely not, by any stretch of the imagination, the skinny girl who gave me Coil's note.

Kevlar guy finally speaks again. "My suit tells me both of you are telling the truth. Which means no one here knows any more about what's going on than I do." His voice is deep and husky, like someone way older than him: To me, he looks to be in his late teens at the oldest, like me. And wait- his _suit_ told him? What the hell does that mean?

"You're either Jason Verner or Samuel Vasil, if the information on the note checks out." Taylor asks. "Mind if I ask which one?"

"Frankly, I don't think you're in the position to be asking for any names." Either-Jason-or-Samuel responds. Without another word, he strides past us, heading for the staircase down. "I've got to go."

Something about this guy makes my blood boil, like he thinks whoever he is, whatever he's doing is much more important than whatever we're trying to accomplish. And no matter what he said, he could know more about what Coil's planning than he's letting on, or at least be able to put another piece in the puzzle. So I'm definitely not going to allow him to just walk away like that.

Tapping into a bit of my speed power, I race across the room, blowing right past Kevlar dude and blocking the way down the stairs.

"Out of the way." Kevlar guy says, stopping in front of me as I bar his path. "Whatever you want with me, you're not getting it."

"Sorry, Kevlar guy, but no way am I letting you just waltz out of here." I respond, folding my arms across my chest. "Who are you and who asked you to come here?"

"What do you think this is? An interrogation?" Kevlar guy says, standing firm. "Now get _out_ of the way." He raises one gauntlet, pointing the palm towards me. It starts to glow with yellow light, tiny strands of electricity jumping across the fingertips. "Before I make you."

"This isn't a good time to start fighting, you guys. We don't have time for this." Taylor says, but I barely here her over the blood pumping in my ears, and Kevlar guy doesn't back down either.

And I stand just as firmly. "I'm not sure who you think you are, but you don't scare me." And he doesn't. The initial shock has long since worn off. He's just a kid in a costume- like me, really.

I can't read Kevlar dude's expression under his mask, but I know body language well enough to know that I just ticked him off. He must be used to being the alpha dog, stepping on everyone around him. Just like Aron. My hands tighten into fists at the thought.

"Fine. Have it your way." The gauntlet begins to glow brighter, about to do… something. "Not sorry if this hurts."

Then a wall of golden brown appears between us. It takes me a moment to realize that it's one of Emily's wings, held out between me and Kevlar guy. "Now is not the time." She says, softly, in that high-pitched tone.

Immediately, all the fight goes out of me- I'm not sure whether Emily has some kind of compelling voice power or I'm just realizing she's right. Either way, I feel myself relax, my hands unclenching. Now isn't the time.

But Kevlar dude doesn't relax one bit, keeping his energy-charged gauntlet pointed at me. "This doesn't change the fact you still haven't moved out of my way." He sounds even more annoyed than before, if that's possible.

"Hey, guys, I-" Taylor starts to say, before she's interrupted.

"_Hel-lo-o!_" A loud, whiny female voice rings into the building from the alleyway outside. "_Is anyone here? I didn't come to the slums for nothing!_" Outside the window, something is glowing, sending off streaks of gold and neon.

"The hell is that?" I ask, starting to run down the stairs.

"It's a girl in a costume! I was just starting to tell you guys!" Taylor yells, jumping over the bannister and following after me, Emily and Kevlar guy right behind her.

It's two floors down to the ground, but a boost from my power gets me down to the bottom in seconds. As I dash outside, though, I run straight into a cacophony of light and color, blindsiding me. Everywhere I look is filled with neon bursts of light. I try to pull up, but I'm going way too fast, and run smack into the wall on the opposite side of the alleyway. It hurts, but not as much as it would a normal person- thank God, cape genes.

Still, I fall over, hitting the ground pretty hard, my vision covered with dark spots from the burst of light. Before I know it, Taylor is helping me up- I can barely see, but I can barely make out the grey of her costume through my blurry sight. "How'd you find me?" I ask, a little woozy from the impact.

"My bugs, remember?" She responds, getting me standing straight. "You alright? You hit that wall pretty fast."

"Yeah, I'll be fine in a minute or too." And it's true; thanks to my regeneration, my vision is clearing up, and I can already barely even feel the pain from the impact- it probably won't even bruise, let alone scar.

"C'mon, we're going this way." Taylor swings me around, leading me towards what my sense of direction tells me is the courtyard. By the time we get there, my vision is clear, free to see what's- or who's- been waiting for us.

As Taylor promised, it's a girl in yet another cape costume. Hers is white and silver, skintight to show off her curvy body, covered with reflective surfaces that almost look like diamonds. A tiny zipper runs down the suits' front, undone just enough to show a little cleavage. A mask that looks like it's made out of pearls covers her face, revealing her blue eyes, deep scarlet lips, and bits of flawless skin on her cheeks and chin. Her long, platinum-blonde hair flows free behind her. All in all, it's… rather distracting. I can tell even Kevlar dude is having a hard time keeping his eyes on her face.

"You _finally_ showed up." She says upon seeing us. Her voice is high and whiny, incredibly entitled. If she's from around here, she obviously goes to Arcadia with the high and mighty. Any attraction to her I might've felt flies out the window, hearing her voice. "I was waiting _forever_."

"That's Angela McMillar." Taylor says. "I don't even need to check the sheet to know, I recognize her in a picture from one of Emma's modeling shoots." Her voice shakes ever so slightly at Emma's name- maybe she was one of Taylor's bullies, but then again why is she talking about her like a friend? I decide to leave it alone for now.

Angela shrugs, like she doesn't care that people knows her name. "So, why are we here?" She demands. "Are we gonna pound some street thugs? I'm _so_ up for that." She says it like beating up random crooks is no big deal.

"We're not sure ourselves." I say, stepping a little closer to her. Even though she's smaller than me, with that whiny voice, it feels like she's using that rich-girl charisma to own the conversation. And I'm not letting Arcadia win at anything- not even talking.

"Well, we got to get ourselves noticed _somehow_." Says Angela. "I say we beat up street thugs anyway."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Emily says, her mouth drawn into a tight line.

"All of you quiet." Taylor says, swiveling her head around. "There's a big gang coming down the street."

"So? Let's thrash 'em." Angela says, like she's speaking for the group. "They're just a couple of gutter punks. I could take them myself, easy."

"No, you can't." Taylor says matter-of-factly. "There's at least thirty, and a lot of them have guns. And the guy in the front is-" She stops for a second, standing stock still. "We have to go. It's a big ABB meeting. Lung's leading the pack." She actually sounds frightened.

"She's right." Says Emily. "Lung's bad news. We should go."

"We can't just _leave_." Either-Jason-or-Samuel says. I make a mental note to ask more him a bit harder about his name later. "I say we hide in one of those buildings, stake out the place."

"Hide in one of those buildings?" Says Angela, shivering like the idea gives her chills. "Gross."

"We don't have any time! They're almost here!" Taylor yells, breaking into a run towards the nearest door, on the opposite side of the courtyard. We all hurry after her, our feet pounding the asphalt.

Taylor doesn't stop entering the house, heading up two stories before slowing down. This floor is small but big enough for the five of us, with a big window that faces the courtyard- maybe she scouted it with her bugs beforehand? The thought makes me shudder a little bit.

"They're here." She says in a whisper, pointing out through the window as we all crouch by it. I get a little bit of quiet glee hearing Angela shudder as she kneels down on the dirty floor.

We all look through the window, holding our breath. There're at least thirty of them, all Asian, all dressed in the ABB's standard green-and-red colors, all carrying an assortment of weapons, most of them knives or bats, but a fair deal of guns in the mix as well.

Leading the pack, followed by two others, is Lung, whom I recognize vaguely from reading an article on him on Parahumans Wiki. He's dressed in all red with an ornately decorated metal mask, his arms free to show off his bulging muscles, dragon tattoos curling up and down his arms. Following him is a shorter man, slender, dressed in all black with two katana sheathed behind his back. He wears a horned mask with a spooky cackling face on it. The third and final member of the trio is a girl, wheeling something covered by a black tarp. She wears goggles and a gas mask, but other than that her outfit is pretty normal, a green tank top and matching cargo pants with combat boots and straight black hair.

"The one with the demon mask is Oni Lee, the girl is Bakuda." Taylor supplies, quietly. "I'm not too sure about Oni Lee's powerset, but I'm pretty sure he's a teleporter. Bakuda's an inventor, specializing in bombs." To me, they sound like some scary people.

Lung doesn't waste time, climbing on top of the dumpster on the courtyard's opposite side as his lackeys gather around him. Bakuda hands the covered object up to him, careful to keep whatever's beneath concealed. Any chatter between the criminals falls to a hush, now.

"My friends!" Lung roars, and he's met by an enthusiastic peal of cheers. "You all know, or, at least, you should know, that the ABB has been challenged as of late." Boos and jeers come up from the crowd. "Rookie heroes think we are amassing too much territory, think that they can put us down. I have defeated every single of them personally." Another roar of cheering.

"But I am growing tired of defeating foe after foe, even if it is effortless." Lung continues, and as he does so, he snaps his left hand, which bursts into a red-hot flame. "So you know what I am thinking?"

As the crowd bursts into a third wave of cheers, Oni Lee climbs on top of the dumpster and lifts off the tarp. What's under it makes me lose my breath for half a second.

Under the tarp, tied to a pushcart, his hands and legs bounds with wires, his mouth taped shut, is a kid who can't be older than thirteen.

"I think we are going to send them a message." Lung finishes.

...

**Phew... give me a second to catch my breath... two hour marathon typing session just now. Hang on a second...**

**Okay, I'm better. I hope you guys find Coil's new team to be interesting, and I hope I described Taylor and Lung the best I could. Be sure to review and follow, I appreciate all constructive criticism!**

**The next chapter, our first big fight scene, should be posted late this week or early next week. I wish I could work faster, but, sadly, that's not the case.**

**See Ya!**

**-Imageination**


	4. C1P3: Good Guys and Bad Boys

**Hey everyone! Sorry about the update being a little later than promised. This scene took longer to write then I thought, not to mention that school is growing to be a real pain in the neck.**

**Big fight scene in this chapter, with more to come. Keep reviewing, following and fav'ing!**

...

As Lung spoke those words about a lesson, every bit of my body freezes over. I feel like ice, unable to move, unable to act, unable even to breathe. Lung was going to hurt this little kid just to send a message to the wannabe heroes that had been giving him a bad hair day?

From the moment Oni Lee had unveiled him, I'd been unable to keep my eyes off the kid. He was tiny, probably not taller than five foot even, a shrimp that could have passed for a sixth grader. Hell, maybe he even was a sixth grader. The kid had pale skin, a mop of black curls for hair and bright blue eyes, like painted glass. Those eyes were alive and panicky now, darting left and right like some animal trapped in a cage. Watching them made me sick to my stomach.

Both of Lung's hands were ignited now, burning red and gold flame as he addressed the crowd. So the guy was a pyrokinetic, a fire-thrower? Taylor had described him as a seriously dangerous cape, but she hadn't been specific. Hopefully I wouldn't have to find out.

Meanwhile, the kid was struggling against his bonds, trying to get away like it was the only thing left in the world. But whoever had tied him to the pushcart had done a good job, and he could only shift maybe half an inch before getting bogged down under the ropes again. It didn't help that Oni Lee was standing right next to him, one of the little Asian psycho's hands gripping the hilt of one of the katana on his back. That grinning, horned demon mask of his was more than a little unsettling.

Tearing my eyes away from the scene, I looked around at the other guys. Angela, kneeling on my right, looks terror-stricken, with her lips pressed together tightly. I realize this is probably little Miss Richey-rich's first time seeing what the gangs in the poorer parts of town were willing to do. Royal brat or not, I sort of felt bad for her; the people around here were a pretty messed up bunch.

Emily is kneeling down, stock still, biting down on her lower lip like it was a last meal. I can't read her tranquil expression, but her body language didn't look happy all the same.

I couldn't tell what Kevlar guy and Taylor were thinking under their masks, but I could see Taylor's hands balling into fists as her whole body shook with rage. Lung was blaming this whole incident on a bunch of rookie heroes- Taylor had _been_ one of those rookie heroes. She probably couldn't help but feel guilty.

Lung had been speaking in some Chinese dialect I couldn't understand, but now he switched back to English, snapping my attention back to him. "So, what should be done with our little prisoner?" He shouts.

"_Burn the little white boy!_" Some guy in the crowd shouts, echoed by his buddies.

"_Make him suffer! Send the message!_" Says another.

"We have to do something." Taylor whispers, her voice going up and down like a roller coaster, probably balancing a mix of anger and fear. "We can't just let him get hurt."

"Not easy." Kevlar dude responds. Unlike Taylor, his voice was mostly even, but he might have had something in his mask that made it sound like that. "Lung's tough, and he heals. We'd have to hit him pretty hard to get him to even notice."

"I could do it." Emily says softly, prompting us all to look at her. "But you have to stand back. My power is… a little volatile."

We all back up a few steps while Emily straightened up and walked to the window. I was a little confused by what she was saying. Bird-girl was going to attack Lung? What was she going to do, sing to him? But I kept my mouth shut. I didn't have a better idea, after all.

"He's almost to the little kid! Now, Emily, do it now!" Taylor whisper-shouted.

It all happens at once from there. Emily opens her mouth, and I can hear the slightest pop in my ears before the glass window she'd standing in front of explodes outwards. Glass fragments and pieces of wood rain downwards, showering whoever was unlucky enough to be below. I could hear screams and illegible cries as the rubble showered the ABB goons. But everything else was drowned out by the ear-splitting roar of pain that couldn't have come from anyone else but Lung.

I rush to the window, looking outwards into the chaos. ABB members litter the floor below us, some unconscious, most injured. Bakuda and Oni Lee are still standing by the dumpster, looking completely confused. And then I see Lung, who's slumped down against the wall, blood flowing in a thin trickle out of both of his ears. What the hell had Emily just hit him with? I didn't hear or see a thing, and then everything was chaos and blood.

And then I see the kid again. Now, he's on his side, the pushcart had apparently fallen over during Emily's attack. He seems okay, maybe even relieved. I breathe out a big sigh, all the tenseness and worry flowing out of me. We did it. We'd stopped Lung.

"There they are! Get them!" A mechanical voice shouts from down in the courtyard. I realize too late that it's Bakuda, who's aiming an oversized gun painted with the ABB's standard colors right towards the window me and Emily are standing at. As Bakuda pulls the trigger, a grenade fires out of the gun, spiraling towards the building in a perfect arc.

Suddenly, my body operates on instinct, my powers taking over as I launch out of the now open window, shouting, "Get clear!" as I go. I grab the grenade out of midair, flying over the crowd of recovering ABB members. I briefly consider dropping it on them before reconsidering- I'm not about to kill thirty people on my first night on the job. Doing things like that tend to get you in trouble with the law.

Instead, I pull up, launching upwards as fast as I can. I remember that Bakuda is a Tinker- the official term for any parahuman that's good at inventing things- specializing in bombs. So who knows what the heck this grenade does, but I'm getting it away from people while I have the chance. Pulling out of my rise at about three hundred feet off the ground, I chuck the grenade higher into the air, my strength sending it flying upwards. Then I rocket back downwards, moving faster than I have for a while, my heart in my throat as I hear the grenade going off above me.

I spin around in midair to see what's happening. The grenade explodes into a small burst, trails of energy spiraling off it and exploding into even more bursts, like a gigantic chain reaction. Fortunately, I managed to get everyone out of the blast radius, so if we're lucky everyone will think it's just some random fireworks.

And if we're not lucky… From my sky-high hover, I peer across the bay to see Brockton Bay's Protectorate branch, its dimly-lit force field still on this late at night. I'm not sure whether someone over in the big house noticing our little brawl would be a good or bad thing, but I push it out of my mind right now- have to see what's going on down below.

I dive back down, landing on the rooftop opposite the building I'd just left. _Can't just dive into the fray_, I think to myself, _have to check out the scene first_.

It's chaos down in the alleyway. The ABB have recovered and spread out, but it's not looking too well for them. Swarms of bugs- Taylor's power at work, I assume- swamp the gang members as they scream and try desperately to fight off the waves of chattering insects. It makes my skin crawl as one Chinese guy goes down under a wall of bugs bigger than he is.

Those who've managed to escape Taylor's bugs aren't faring too well, either. I watch as Angela, who's standing in the doorway of the building we'd been staking out in, spreads out her hands, firing a barrage of light that a line of gangsters crashing to the floor as it plows through them. The remaining members open fire at her, but suddenly she's protected by a crackling, off-yellow shield of energy- Kevlar dude's contribution, who's standing right next to her, his gauntlets glowing brightly.

I watch the other guys mop the floor with the goons, and I freeze. I've never been in a live combat situation before, and the other kids are performing like it's something they've done their whole lives. I have no idea who to attack, or who to help out. I've been training for something like this for nearly a year, and my mind is a total blank.

Suddenly, a form swoops down to my right, making me jump to the left. It's Emily, flying, her wings flapping, and an ABB goon in between her foot talons, screaming his head off. Pulling up out of her glide, Emily lets the guy go, and he flies a good ten feet before crashing to the ground, not moving.

"Thanks for saving us from that grenade." She says, landing next to me, one eye trained on the battle below. Despite the gratitude, I still can't sense any emotion in her voice, and it's almost frustrating. "We're doing pretty well down there at the moment. I knocked out Bakuda, and Lung is still recovering, but no sign of Oni Lee."

Before I can ask her how she managed to knock out bomb chick- another window-buster, maybe? - Oni Lee materializes out of thin air right behind Emily, katana drawn. "Look out!" I yell, my power once again working on autopilot as I dash forwards, pushing Emily aside, maybe a little too roughly. I plow into Oni Lee with my shoulder, sending him careening across the rooftop like he just got shot out of a cannon. I rub my shoulder gingerly- that hurt like hell, but at least Emily is safe.

Unfortunately, all of my sense of accomplishment from saving her vanishes as Oni Lee hits the ground and vanishes into a cloud of ash.

"What the hell?" I say to myself as Emily gets up off the ground behind me.

"Look out!" She suddenly yells, a lot louder than I'm used to. A brown-and-purple streak- that would be Emily- flies over my head and collides with a black streak- that would be Oni Lee- sending him crashing to the ground. Once again, he vanishes in a puff of ash.

"Behind you!" Emily yells from above me. I whirl, my fist ready to punch, but hit nothing but air as Oni Lee dives effortlessly under my blow and whirls with his katana, the blade flying clean towards my abdomen. I pull back, kicking off the roof, but not fast enough- Lee's katana cuts a thin gash into my abdomen, accompanied by a spurt of blood and a very unmanly shriek of pain, courtesy of me.

But I suck it up, zoom back into the fray. Before he can even think about teleporting, I slam into Oni Lee with my full body, sending him flying. Unfortunately, he once again disintegrates into ash. I groan in frustration. How is this guy doing this? Does he leave behind a dummy body whenever he teleports? Or something else entirely?

I hear a rustle of feathers behind me and whirl around, seeing Emily and Oni Lee entangled in some kind of airborne death wrestle. Emily whirls quickly, throwing Oni Lee off and sending him careening into the courtyard below. Once again, his body disappears into a puff of ash.

He's on her again in a matter of seconds, his katana flashing, trying to stab her. I move to help Emily, but suddenly Oni Lee is in front of me too, his katana aimed straight for my abdomen.

I twist out of the way, the blade narrowly missing my body, and spin in midair, kicking Lee across the face and sending him flying a few feet away. He lands gracefully and recovers before throwing his katana straight at me. I try to move out of the way, but before it even reaches me, the katana, and Lee, dissolve into ash.

This is getting ridiculous. No matter how many times we hit this guy, he keeps reappearing. Are we even hurting him? "Get higher!" I yell to Emily, an idea starting to form in my head. "This is pointless!"

Emily nods and starts flapping her wings, rising into the air and pushing off the Lee attacking her in the process. In a short time, she's gaining lift at a rapid pace, and I follow after her. My whole body is screaming in exertion, I haven't used my powers like this in ages. But I also feel exhilarated. It feels good to break loose.

As we rise, I take half a second to take a look at the battlefield. Apparently, the other guys have taken care of it. Most of the ABB goons are scattered on the floor below us. Those still standing are surrounded by a seven-foot tall wall of bugs, which Angela stands guard over. Taylor and Kevlar dude are kneeling next to the little kid while the latter unties his ropes. Bakuda and Lung are still down for the count, but I have no way to tell how long they'll stay like that.

A dark shadow appearing from above reminds me who the real threat is. Oni Lee dives downwards, holding his katana over his head like some kind of descending angel. "Spread out!" I yell to Emily, as we break off in different directions, leaving Lee to sail down through the gap between us.

Oni Lee's body doesn't even disappear before I feel another one on my back, his katana almost at my throat. I jerk my head backwards, slamming my fighter pilot helmet into the little psycho's face. He gives a grunt of pain- the first sound I've heard him make all this time- and falls away again, plummeting a good twenty feet before disappearing again.

This time, Lee reappears on the roof below us, watching and waiting. Whatever he's planning it, it gives me time to finish that plan I've been working on. "You have some kind of attack that he can't see or dodge, right?"

Emily is flapping her wings, hovering in place, some fifteen feet away from me. She looks battered, dirt covering her clothes, with a thin bleeding cut running along the left side of her forehead. That reminds me of the gash across my own body, which has mostly stopped bleeding by now. I'm lucky for my powers- any other person probably could have died from that.

Emily nods. "If I sing at a very high pitch, I produce frequencies that can shatter objects and be used for attack. Those struck by it describe it as… quite painful." For a second, it seems like she won't elaborate, which I would expect from her. "I can make the attack wider, but I wouldn't vouch for your ability to get out of the attack radius in time."

But I shake my head. Can't worry about that right now. Have to take down Lee. "Just do whatever you have to do. I'll keep him distracted." Emily nods again before taking off, flying upwards at a rapid pace.

Looking down, I see Lee's eyes following Emily's flight. _No,_ I think, _Me. Focus on me._ "Hey, Oni Lee!" I yell down to the psycho. He seems like the kind to not take a boast lightly, what with his following Lung and all. "People like to tell me that I'm more dangerous than you and Lung combined. What do you think of that?"

Within seconds, Lee is in my face, his katana swinging. I whip backwards, trying to dodge, and earn myself a nice slash across my cheek. As Oni Lee plummets, a new one appears behind me, ready to drive his katana in my back. Thinking on my feet, letting my power guide me, I swing backwards, smashing into Lee and grabbing the katana from his hand. I take a moment to admire the craftsmanship- the hilt is probably made out of solid gold- before it disintegrates into ash in my hand. I stare mournfully at the gradually accumulating dust on my costume- that is _never_ going to wash out.

"Almost there, Jake." Emily calls from up above, still rising. Oni Lee appears in front of me again, katana slashing. I shoot backwards, evading the incoming blow, rocketing away. Hearing something behind me, I dive downwards, narrowly avoiding the attack of an Oni Lee that had appeared behind me when I had been distracted. _He's everywhere_, I remind myself, _stay sharp_.

Right before Oni Lee's katana rips into my shoulder from behind.

I scream in pain as the blade rips into my flesh, piercing clean through me right below my shoulder blade. My mind weak and swaying with pain and blood loss, I stare at the blade sticking out of my skin, blood, muscle tissue and other victuals dripping from it like water from a faucet. I can only weakly feel Oni Lee sliding his blade out of my shoulder, his body hanging on me as he grasps my levitating form, about to stab again.

What I do feel is when Emily finally sings.

The sonic wave rips through the air, a high-pitched wail that sounds like a million nails scratching their way across a million blackboards. I hear something popping in my ear- maybe my eardrum, exploding from the strain. By now, the pain is so much it's all I can do not to black out.

Oni Lee falls off my back, stunned by the wail. He looks asleep, like a little horned angel falling from the sky. Falling…

My power gives out, worn with exhaustion, and now I'm falling too, my face rushing headlong towards the ground. I can see Oni Lee below, plummeting, his body spinning like a pin wheel. His body disintegrates into ash and appears farther below, but he misjudges it, teleports still ten feet off the ground, and lands hard, smashing into the roof. Heh… take that, you freaky Asian psycho.

I'm still falling, blood spiraling upwards from both sides of my ruined shoulder. Pain should be everywhere, but all I feel is dull and gray.

Then Emily's feet talons enclose around me, like some kind of weird angel. She lowers me the rest of the way to the ground, trying hard not to do any more damage to my ruined shoulder. I land in the courtyard, totally exhausted. Someone screams- probably Angela, and suddenly there are spiders crawling all over my shoulder, wrapping the injury in layers and layers of silk. It immediately starts to turn red with blood. My blood.

But, ever so slowly, I can feel warmth starting to come back into my body. Maybe it's my power healing me faster than usual, but I gradually gain the ability to sit up straight. Taylor kneels down next to me, watching me behind those golden lenses.

"You okay?" She asks. "Emily said Oni Lee got you really bad. I had some of my spiders wrap your injury with silk, it's kind of a patch job, and maybe not even sanitary-"

"You're rambling." I speak for the first time, cutting her off. It doesn't hurt to talk as much as I thought it would, but every syllable still sets off a dull throb of pain in my shoulder.

"I'm freaking out a little bit." Taylor admits, sitting down next to me, close enough that our shoulders are touching. It's all I can do not to think about how this is the physically closest I've been to a girl who isn't related to me in months. With her willing, anyway. _Grabbing her before probably doesn't count,_ I remind myself.

"I thought this would be easier than my first night out as a cape." Taylor continues. "Thought I'd be prepared, this time." She laughs, a little sadly. "I was completely wrong. Completely."

"Well, let's try something easier." I say. "Help me stand up."

Taylor nods, standing up herself, before extending a hand down to me. I take it gingerly, and with a little effort manage to stand. I feel more color returning to my cheeks- what Taylor did was a patch job, but it's keeping me alive, anyway.

"Thank you for saving me." A quiet voice from behind me says. I spin around, slowly, trying to avoid breaking the bonds on Taylor's wrappings. Does spider silk break easily? I don't know.

I take a moment to realize that the voice is coming from the little kid we've just saved from Lung. He stands a good head shorter than me, maybe even more so, so I practically tower over him. The terror in his eyes is gone now, replaced with relief. "My name is Samuel." He says.

"Samuel Vasil." Taylor says. "The last name on the list." Samuel nods, confirming her guess.

"It looks like you got hurt in the shoulder." Samuel says, staring at my bandaged injury. "Maybe you can let me look at it?"

What is this kid talking about? He wants to take a look at my wound? This night's been weird enough already, though. I'm not about to refuse him. "Sure, kid. Take a look." I say.

Samuel nods, reaches out and grabs my arm with one of his small hands. Before I can ask what he's doing, Samuel closes his eyes, and something seriously weird happens.

For about a quarter of a second, a barrage of visions flash past me. One where it's daytime. Another where Samuel has blonde hair. Yet another where we're standing in a field in the middle of nowhere. But it's only for a quarter a second, and I forget the image just as soon as they pass. I'm left with a memory of… something. Something strange.

My vision resettles, and, suddenly, I don't feel the pain anymore. Desperate to find out what just happened, I grab Taylor's wrappings and tear them off.

My wound is healed. Completely repaired, like nothing had ever happened in the first place. "That's incredible," I say to Samuel. "How did you do that?"

"I'm a cape, like you guys." He responds, shrugging. "I can control biology by touching it, depending on my emotional state. When I'm calm, my touch heals people. When I'm not, it does… other things. Strange things." He makes it sound like something I'd rather not find out about anytime soon.

"Thanks." I respond, not able to think of a more dignified response. Samuel smiles and shrugs again, like it's no big deal.

Emily walks over to us, her talons obviously streaked with my blood. "Thanks for saving me from Lee." I say to her. "Hopefully I can return the favor someday."

Emily almost looks like she's going to smile for a second, but doesn't. "It's nothing." She responds. "The others are interrogating the ABB goons that are still conscious. Apparently, they received a strange note from an anonymous source, just like we did, claiming that whoever sent it wanted to publish a story about the ABB and would be waiting in this alleyway. Lung took the invitation as an opportunity to get rid of all the rookie heroes that have been causing him trouble."

Suddenly, pieces start falling into place in my head. "This Coil guy," I start, my fists clenching as I do so, "this Coil guy, whoever he is, orchestrated this whole thing, made sure we'd be in the right place at the right time for this ABB meeting. Like it's some kind of _test_." I can barely hear myself over the fury bubbling in my chest. Whoever this Coil guy is, he's putting whatever he wants to accomplish over the lives of innocent kids like Samuel. I look over at the little guy. He looks just as mortified as I feel.

"But what would Coil have to gain by playing us against the ABB?" Taylor wonders out loud.

Before I can answer, an enormous burst of heat and flame knocks us all off our feet, sending me tumbling into Samuel and Emily, with Taylor falling on top of all of us. It doesn't take me long to identify the source.

Lung is standing on top of the dumpster, a furious expression on his face. His clothes are in tatters from the burst of power, his hands and shoulders still smoldering with flame. Pretty freaking scary, if you ask me.

"Little flies, little flies flitting in the air," Lung rumbles in his deep, menacing voice. "About to be swatted."

...

**Writing for Oni Lee is, in a word, annoying. His power is so ridiculously unstoppable I had to jump through narrative hoops to keep him from breaking the fight in half. I hope I established the OC's powers adequately, though be aware that isn't the end of all that.**

**SPOILER ALERT: You'll be seeing the Protectorate in the next chapter. Maybe not a spoiler, though. Eh, who knows. I'm tired, and foreshadowing is hard to write for when your imagination is barely keeping ahead of the story itself. **

**SPOILER ALERT 2- ELECTRIC BOOGALOO: The next chapter will probably be titled "Enter the Dragon". I know that's horribly cliché, hopefully in the meantime I'll think of something better. No promises, though.**

**Leave some comments on what you think! I always appreciate feedback.**

**See ya!**

**-Imageination**


	5. C1P4: Enter the Dragon

**Hey everyone! This chapter turned out to be a little longer than expected, which is why it's being posted on a Friday. Turns out this segment did end up being titled "Enter the Dragon". Ah well. They can't all be winners. **

**First of all, I wanted to extend a big thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. This is my first published fic, as some of you might know, and I'm still having a hard time maintaining a schedule and all that stuff. But I wanted to clear the air about something that several people have been asking about in reviews: The status of the original Undersiders.**

**When I first started this fic, my originally conceived idea was that Coil's new decision would create a ripple effect that removed all the Undersiders from existence, or at least prevent them from triggering and therefore entering the story. I've since gone back on this with the ensuing result:**

**Brian, Lisa, Alec, Rachel, and Aisha are still all going to be a part of this story. Not as important as they are in Worm canon, obviously, but they're definitely going to be there. I've loosely storyboarded their parts in the story for everyone except Aisha, but she'll find her way in there somehow. **

**This is turning out to be a long opening commentary. So what are you waiting for? Get to the actual story already!**

...

Chapter 1, Part 4: Enter the Dragon

For a few seconds after Lung's wild power display, I'm breathless, the wind knocked out of me, unable to take a breath in the superheated air. I gasp and flounder like a fish, struggling to get to my feet. Fires burn all around Lung, their flames lighting up dancing shadows across the dark courtyard.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Angela jutting her arms out, palms facing Lung. Bursts of light fly from her palms, brilliant streaks of gold, pink, and green. Lung doesn't try to dodge, to evade. Instead he just raises his arms, taking the brunt of the blast like it's nothing. Where Angela hit him, silver scales are forming along Lung's arms, jutting out and encapsulating his skin like some kind of armor.

I mentally counted how many powers Lung had displayed so far. Pyrokinesis, regeneration, enhanced durability, now some kind of armor on his skin… who the heck was this guy? How many powers did he have? I was definitely starting to understand why the Protectorate avoided him as much as possible.

Lung raises his arms, and a wave of heat and flame surges towards us, a ten-foot tall avalanche of fiery death. Still only half lucid, I can only watch as a yellowish barrier of energy forms in front of the six of us- one of Kevlar dude's barriers. The flames slam into the shield, making it crackle and hiss like oil on a skillet, but it holds. Still, I could feel the heat diffusing through, sticking to me like a wet blanket. I gasped for breath, could hear the others around me doing the same thing.

Picking myself up, I could see Lung, now hopping off the dumpster. He's practically naked now, his shirt completely burnt off, exposing his torso's impressive collection of dragon tattoos, and the pants he had been wearing were now little more than smoldering rags. Not that it mattered; those silver scales were starting to cover more and more of his body. I watch in mute horror as an array of wicked-looking spikes erupt from his shoulders, like porcupine quills.

Lung opens his mouth, like he's about to say something, before Taylor's swarm bursts out of every opening in the buildings all around him. Thousands of insects dogpile the poor dude, biting and stinging and spitting and doing whatever else they do.

"How long should that hold him?" I ask Taylor, who's getting to her feet next to me.

"Maybe ten seconds, judging how long this move kept him busy last time." She responds. "What should we do?"

"We have to get somewhere where we have more room to maneuver. Another fire attack like the last one and we're roasted." I respond, turning to Taylor. "Which way are there less civilians that could get caught in the crossfire?"

"That way." She says, pointing in the direction Lung's goons currently aren't fleeing down. I might have forgot to mention that detail, huh? Guess our chances of surviving this fight just increased by a half percent. I might have an idea that can buy us a little more time, though…

"Angela!" I yell, trying to get her attention. She spins, seeing me. There's a look of wild panic in her eyes, and strands of her platinum blonde hair look burnt at the tips. "I need you to focus!" I say, hoping it'll calm her down enough to listen. "If you have any more of those light-bursts you were throwing out before, aim for Lung's eyes! We need to keep him off-balance!"

I'd mostly kept to myself at school, but Winslow was a pretty rough high school. You had to fight big, muscle-bound, steroid-pumping guys, every now and then. The trick was to keep hitting them before they had a chance to fight back, to keep them off-balance. With Lung, it was the same thing- just, you know, bigger. And with a lot more fire.

Despite the panic in her eyes, Angela nods, her hands starting to glow as she uses her power. I look over at Kevlar dude next. I realize, with the six of us, that's probably Jason Verner, the last unidentified person on Coil's list. "Hey, Jason!" I yell to him, smiling to myself when he turns in surprise. "Get ready to throw up a shield when the time comes! We need to be ready for when Lung attacks again!"

Seemingly despite himself, Jason nods. He raises his gauntlets, crackling with electricity. Just then, Lung bursts into flames again, sending fire and bug corpses hurtling in all directions. Another shield goes up, protecting us from the blast. So far, so good.

"Angela, now!" I yell. Time for the next stage in the plan.

Angela steps forward, her palms glowing, and thrusts them forward. Tiny lines of light fly forward through the air, and for a second I start to think that she panicked and used her power wrong, somehow. Then the little lights burst into crackling fireworks, neon pulses of orange and green exploding all over Lung's face. The guy roars in anger- literally _roars_, like a lion or something, but with a human voice.

"Hit him again, then follow us!" I yell to her, grabbing Samuel and slinging him over my shoulder. He yelps briefly, but then grabs on, hanging around my neck. Another barrage of Angela's fireworks shower Lung, and Taylor douses him with another wave of bugs for good measure.

Then we're running, all careening down the alleyway towards the street outside. Samuel hangs around my neck, struggling to hold on at the speed I'm moving. "Don't stop moving until we're out in the open!" I shout, trying to get my voice loud enough to project over the combined roar of pounding feet, flapping wings, crackling fireworks, swarms of bugs, and who knows what else. This night is _definitely_ not going to end up on the upside of normal.

We pull out onto the street, everyone panting to gather their breath. I can feel the air cooling by a few dozen degrees, having gotten out of the inferno around Lung. I blink repeatedly, trying to get the streams of sweat running down my face out of my eyes.

"We're alone." Taylor says. "I'm using my bugs to lock down the area; drive all the civilians into areas where this fight won't get to them." Suddenly she freezes for a half second, before screaming, "_Scatter!_"

In my panicking mind, I'm barely able to understand what Taylor is saying as the others break off in all directions. Then I look up and see what looks like an enormous, burning dumpster careening through the air, headed straight for me. Still on my back, Samuel screams.

Tapping into my power, I rush forwards, not bothering to actually choose a direction. Then the fireball dumpster slams into the ground behind me, the shockwave knocking me off my feet. I expect Samuel to go flying off my shoulders, but I don't feel anything. Where did the little guy go? I desperately hope I didn't leave him behind somehow- I thought I had a tight grip on him, but then he was just… gone.

"Over here." Says a wispy voice to my right, like wind blowing through the trees. I turn and almost jump in surprise, seeing a cloudlike thing in the shape of a human being, floating a few inches off the ground. His body is transparent, only tiny wisps of some kind of particle- like dust floating in the air- seem to make up the body. The face is more put-together, revealing a person's features- a head of curly locks and small, bright eyes. _Samuel's_ features, I realize after a second.

"Samuel?" I ask, shaking my head. "What happened to you?"

"My power works on me, too." He responds, still in that weird airy voice. "When that dumpster started coming towards us, I panicked, used my power without meaning to, and I turned into…" He gestures to himself, as much as you can when your hands are basically diffuse gases. "This. Hang on." Samuel's 'eyes' close, and in the time it takes me to take a breath his body compacts in before gaining substance, becoming a solid little kid again. _Is that what he did to me before?_ I wonder. _Did he turn my body back to the way it was before Lee stabbed me?_

I don't have any time to think about that right now, obviously. Just then, another flaming dumpster comes flying into the street, crashing into the pavement farther down the block. I thought Lung would have done his next attack in the other direction, try to hit both sides. Apparently, he knew where we were all going, even with Angela blinding him. Yet another power to tack onto the list.

I fly up a few meters and scan the street in both directions- everyone's okay, as far as I can tell. Taylor is to my right, a fresh swarm gradually building up around her. Jason is deploying extinguisher foam from _somewhere_ in his costume on the dumpsters, trying to put them out. Angela is standing to my left, watching the air for more incoming trash meteors. Emily is perched on a nearby building.

"Everyone okay?" I shout, getting a chorus of "Yeah" and "Fine" in response.

"Alright, everyone." I say, trying to inject confidence into my voice. "Odds are the Protectorate has caught wind of this, what with all the fireworks we've been throwing around, and they'll probably be here soon." I hear a couple stifled moans and groans. "Yeah, I know, I'm not a big fan of them either. But in this situation, we're going to need the firepower. Gather 'round."

I let go of my power, dropping to the ground. Emily swoops down from up above, landing next to Taylor. Angela walks up on my other side. Jason is still extinguishing fires, so I raise my voice loud enough so that he'll hear.

I start talking as they all gather around, hoping that my plan is good enough to get us all out unharmed- or, at the very least, not dead. "Whenever Lung comes over from doing whatever he's doing in the alley, spread out, don't get sandwiched together so he can get an easy shot in. It's like fighting in a boxing ring- keep on your toes, get small shots in, but hit hard all the same. Don't let Lung get organized, keep him off balance. Any questions?" No one says anything. "Good! Spread out! And, you know, don't get killed!"

We break off in different directions, diving into the shadows or climbing onto rooftops. I, for my part, stay standing in the middle of the street. That is, until I notice Samuel standing to my right, his eyes fixed on the sky where the fireball dumpsters had come from.

In less than five seconds, I grab Samuel, fly upwards, and deposit him on a nearby rooftop. "Stay down and stay hidden." I say, hovering a few feet off the ground, my power itching to get back in the fight. "I already saved you once; I'd rather not have to do it again." It sounds mean, but in truth I'm terrified for the little guy. He's right in the firing line of an A-List supervillain like Lung. And I'll never be able to forgive myself if he gets hurt.

Samuel pouts in a frustratingly adorable little way. "I'm a cape, too." He reminds me, folding his arms. "I can fight. I got all the way from Quebec to here all by myself."

_All the way from here to Quebec?_ I think to myself. That was definitely something to explore for later, but right now I was mostly concerned with getting my point across. No way was a little kid like Samuel getting caught in the middle of this. Not again. "I get it, Sam. I get how you think powers will save you, make you dangerous. But just because you're a cape doesn't mean you can fight a supervillain like Lung." I respond. Speaking of which, where is the guy? Is he just hanging out in the alley, waiting for us to come for him or something? "Heck, I'm not sure why _I _want to fight him. I can move faster than a commercial jet. I could get out of here whenever I want." I pause, considering what sort of lesson I'm trying to establish here. "No, that's a lie. I know why. It's because I don't want the other kids getting hurt on my conscience. I barely know them, but we all feel interconnected, like we're all people that don't fit in. Or something." I shrug.

"So I'm going to fight, to save them, or die trying." The almost fatalistic words feel weird, falling out of my mouth, but they also feel right. Like I'm actually making a difference or something.

Slowly, Samuel nods, his arms falling to his sides. "I get it." He says, finally. "You don't want to hurt or get hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it." He breathes out a long sigh. "I'll stay out of danger if that's what you really want, then."

I nod, turning and stepping to the edge of the roof. It's still quiet, not even a hint of the Asian murder dragon hiding somewhere out in the gloom. "We're going to do some good tonight, Samuel." I say, my hands balling into fists in anticipation. "Hopefully it's enough." Then I jump off the edge.

This time, I barely even bother using my power to slow my fall. I slam hard into the street below, cracking it in several places. My feet and thighs feel sore, but the pain helps me feel awake. And it reminds me that I'm done running and dodging tonight. We're facing the dragon, so to speak, once and for all.

"_Hey, Lung!_" I shout at the top of my lungs, standing in the middle of the street like some kind of cape crossing guard. "_We all know you were going to hurt Samuel, with that big macho act you were putting on back in the courtyard! Well, now we want to give it back, but you're hiding in the shadows like a coward! Come out and face it, blow for blow!_" I could practically hear my mind groaning at that last one. _Blow for blow? What am I, some kind of boxing champion_?

It works, though. Looking up in the sky, I see a blazing fireball burst out into the air above, sending rays of heat and flame in all directions. And inside the fireball is a person. Lung. I remember that there were only two dumpsters in the alley we left Lung in. Out of dumpsters to throw, he'd thrown himself, apparently.

The dragon fireball careens towards the street, heading straight towards me. I jump backwards, kicking off with my power and gliding a good ten meters away before coming to rest, my feet scraping against the asphalt. Moments later, Lung hits the street like a bomb, sending detritus and burning debris flying in all directions.

Lung emerges from the impact crater, now ten feet tall, completely naked, and covered in those silver armored scales, spikes a lot like the ones on his shoulders rippling down his spine and running along his knuckles. His mask has managed to stay on through all of this, somehow. Lung cracks his knuckles, staring me down, tiny fires randomly catching here and there on his scales.

A fresh shiver of fear goes through me- I'm not a cowardly guy, but this dude is terrifying. I could pick five things about this guy that would explain why he was at the top of the food chain in Brockton Bay's gang life- His stature, the way he could command a crowd, his intimidating style of dress, his seemingly utter lack of empathy for others, and, last but not least, his powers.

"I let ooo takk wit tothers." Lung says, his speech almost incomprehensible. So his speech gets worse the bigger and fierier he gets? That's one downside among the infinite perks of his power, I guess. "That it bettor it ooo tinkoo have a chance." Well, there goes the tiny hope that he was scared or something.

Without even the slightest warning, Lung extended his hands and send a massive swath of flame searing the air towards me. I leap to the right, landing on the sidewalk, spinning and narrowly dodging a parking meter. I almost had to laugh- I just about got creamed by a freaking _parking meter_. This night was going down in the history books for sure. Better than where I was just standing though- it's little more than smog and melted asphalt, now.

"Thought you'd be a better shot for such a huge guy." I taunt, struggling to keep my voice even under all the fear that's surging through my body. "Your eyes get bigger with the rest of you, right?"

This time, Lung doesn't go through the theatrics of using his fire to attack me. He lunges, charging forwards, enormous silver-plated arms outstretched, leaving smoking holes in the pavement as he goes. Again, I rocket backwards, evading his two-armed swipe. Then I pull up as another enormous blast of flame from Lung comes flying down the sidewalk. I fly to the top of the closest building and land at the tip, looking down at Lung, who seems to be having trouble spotting me in the gloom. "_Now!_" I shout, sensing his confusion. "_Now, hit him now!_"

On cue, a crackling beam of light comes careening towards Lung from an alley on the opposite side of the street. It slams into his side, knocking the big guy into the side of the building I'm standing on, almost throwing me off before I regain my balance. The source of the beam is Angela, her palms outstretched as she sends out a continuous blast, pinning Lung to the wall, and she's joined by Jason, who throws a barrage of off-yellow energy blasts at Lung from his gauntlets, one after the other. Good to know that that suit of his can be used for things other than "Shield creator" and "Fire extinguisher".

Lung roars in anger, struggling to move as he's smashed repeatedly against the wall by hit after hit. We're holding onto our advantage, but if this fight's told me anything, Lung is a pretty smart cookie. I have a feeling- a bad feeling- that he's going to figure a way out of this.

My suspicions are confirmed seconds later as Lung roars again before leaping upwards, his armored, flaming form soaring through the air towards Jason and Angela. Just then, Emily comes flying out of nowhere, wings outstretched. Flying clean past Lung's face, she flicks out her talons, prompting a roar of pain from dragon dude. Whatever she did, it obviously hurt like a mother.

Seemingly blind, Lung's forward momentum gets a bit awry, but not enough to halt his jump towards Jason and Angela. Letting my power run through my veins, I zoom off the roof's edge, fly up to the still falling Lung, grab his side, and shove in what is definitely the world's coolest midair catch. I probably couldn't even make the guy budge normally, but my flying momentum helps with that, sending Lung way off course and crashing into the street, leaving a far bigger crater than I could ever manage.

Lung's on his feet in seconds, small fires catching around him spontaneously. Saying he doesn't look happy would be underselling it for sure. I'm not feeling so great myself. I gave everyone the hope that the Protectorate would be here to save little old us, but I'm getting a sinking feeling that that might have been an empty promise. And every time we knock Lung down, he keeps getting back up, faster than before. Are we even hurting him, really?

A burst of flame flares from Lung in all directions, but another of Jason's shield envelopes him, keeping the fire from going anywhere. The fire rages for a couple seconds, making the shield crackle and hiss, before going out. Underneath the barrier, Lung is still fit as a fiddle, his hide smoking but undamaged. I sigh to myself, adding "Immunity to fire" to the now mile-long list of random perks his power offered.

A streak of light zips past me, coming from the alleyway, and it takes me a moment to realize that it's Angela, her power leaving a stream of little pops of light behind her. I must be three stories off the ground, but she just sailed right by me. How is she jumping that high? A side-effect of her power, maybe? Anyway, as Angela flies clean past me, then past Lung, she had her hands out, facing him. In the split second Jason lowered his shield, Angela opens fire, flurrying Lung with a barrage of explosions of light, hitting him all over his face, neck, and torso. Lung roars and stumbles backwards, trying to cover his eyes. I noticed as he did so that one of his eyes was swollen and torn- Emily's contribution, I guess. And unlike the rest of him, it wasn't healing.

I saw, just then, that we had managed it. Lung's eyes were more vulnerable than the rest of him, maybe? But _who cares_? We'd managed to do it, to actually hurt him. I could feel hope building in me, an idiotic hope that we might actually manage to beat Lung somehow.

My hopes died, all at once, as Angela approaches the ground, and Lung suddenly moves from cowering to the offensive, swatting at Angela with one claw and sending her careening half a block across the pavement. With his other hand, he sends a blast of flame towards the still flying Emily. She moves to dodge, but not fast enough. The flame catches her on the left wing-tip, sending her spiraling out of control into the nearest building. She plummets a story before crashing hard onto a balcony. _At least there's a balcony_, I thought to myself.

Then logic- and panic- take hold, and I rush to Angela's side. She was stunned, but still conscious. "I'm okay." She said, hearing me coming. "That hurt. A lot." She was okay, presumably. I didn't have time, anyway.

Soaring upwards, I land on the edge of the balcony where Emily fell. She's lying in what was probably once a deck chair, but now it's just a smashed wreck of plastic and wood. Unlike Angela's she's unconscious, the gash she'd previously gotten from Oni Lee open and bleeding fresh blood, with a new injury to match it on her right arm. I hurry to stamp out her smoldering wing. _How did this happen?_ I think to myself. _How did we go from winning to losing two people in a matter of seconds?_

I look up from Emily, surveying the battlefield. Lung is attacking something I can't see, swinging his arms in wide arcs and firing blasts of flame. A small grey form skitters through the shadows, trying desperately to avoid an incoming inferno. "Taylor," I say, to no one other than myself, really.

_No. This has to end. No one else, and I mean no one else, is going to get hurt tonight._ Shooting up from the balcony so fast I leave a dent in the floor, I soar down towards the fight. Taylor is cornered, backed up against a wall. A small swarm of insects futilely swarm Lung's face, but he obliterates them easily with a quick blast of flame. Swinging his arms down, Lung is moments away from smashing Taylor to a pulp.

'Moments' being the operative word, as I swoop in and grab Taylor, peeling her off the wall and soaring to the other side of the street, landing on a handy roof with her in my arms. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely, coughing. I put her down gently, feeling a little hoarse myself. I've never used my powers in one sitting so much- it's exhausting. Even Samuel's healing touch isn't enough to keep me from feeling like I want to pass out.

But I shake it off. Have to stay awake. I turn to face Lung, who's roaring at the top of his lungs, random plumes of flame flying from his body in different directions. I make the slightest movement, lean in to get a better view, and he finds me, whirling around, with his whole body awash with red and orange blaze.

"Kill ooo now." Lung rumbles, his voice suddenly deadly quiet. He sends an enormous cone of flame straight at me, bellowing as he does so. I take off, flying straight up, evading the fire. Realizing that I've just left Taylor on the roof, I pray to whatever God happens to be handy that I didn't leave her behind to get scorched. Hopefully she got clear in time.

Then I soar back downwards, straight past Lung. Rather than waste time trying to crisp me alive, Lung jumps straight up, his arms outstretched to strike. I move to the side to dodge, underestimating his reach. Before I have any time to react, his right arm is coming straight up to meet me- and I'm going way too fast to dodge.

Lung's arm catches the side of my body. Pain explodes through my left side as I lost my forward momentum, spinning sideways like a pinwheel. _No! No! Don't crash, _I will myself, pulling out of the spinning dive and narrowly avoiding an incoming apartment building. Lung crashes to the ground in the middle of the street, not far from me, his hide still covered with flames.

Then he sends another blast of flame- at everywhere except for me. Suddenly, I'm pinned against the wall, nowhere to go except lean against it, trying not to get scorched by the sizzling heat all around me.

Then, out of nowhere, a hand- Lung's hand, obviously- emerges from the cage of fire. I try to move, to dodge, but there's nowhere to go. Lung's hand slams me downwards, sending me crashing into the pavement below. Pain explodes through my body a second time as I struggle to get up, to even move. But I can't. All the fight in my body has left me.

Barely able to turn my head, I see Lung charge up a fireball in one hand, clearly savoring the moment, about to roast me alive. Then I hear someone scream, "_No!_" And a dark shape flies through the air, landing directly in front of me, just as Lung lets loose with his blast.

The tongue of flame hits against my mystery rescuer, with the flame parting in both directions. I expect him to get crisped in a matter of seconds, but he holds firm. Lung's blast ends, with whoever this guy is none the worse for wear.

As the blinding fire subsides, I get a better look at the guy. He's tall and musclebound, like a wrestler, with interlocking blues scales instead of skin and a large rounded head, like half a bowling ball. Over his arms are two large round shapes, like shields, made of the same blue scaly material. Blue dude turns his head halfway to me, revealing a wicked row of teeth and one of his glass blue eyes. Hang on a second- _Samuel?_

"Don't hurt my friends!" Samuel bellows in a voice far deeper that his own. Suddenly, his body changes, becoming even taller and more muscular, with red scales instead of blue, and long, thin claws on his hands instead of the shield-thingies. Lung laughs- as well as you can when you're a fifteen-foot tall dragon with no way of pronouncing words. He spreads his arms wide- _If you think you're so tough, try and hurt me_, his body language says.

And Samuel does. He lunges forward and swings his right claw, cutting clean through Lung's armored torso and leaving a gash in his chest. Lung roars in pain and swats at Samuel with his left hand, sending him flying a few feet to the left. Samuel recovers quickly and makes a huge jump through the air, smashing into Lung's already damaged chest with a flying shoulder check. Lung stumbles, roaring again, and Samuel takes the initiative, sinking his claws into Lung's right leg.

Lung bellows in anger, falling over as greenish-purple blood seeps from the injuries on his chest and leg. Samuel moves in for the kill, claws at the ready. Then everything goes wrong.

Lung pushes out his undamaged leg, tripping Samuel over it, making him trip. Before he even has a chance to hit the ground, Lung kicks his leg upwards, sending Samuel flying a good ten feet into the air. I watch in mute horror as Lung rises from his prone position faster than you can blink, slamming the airborne Samuel back into the ground as he does so. He doesn't get up.

Lung raises his hands into the air, plumes of flame rising from them as he savors the moment. Just then, Jason steps out of his hiding place, gauntlets crackling with electricity, and sends a barrage of energy blasts flying towards Lung, striking him repeatedly in the chest. Lung roars and stumbles backwards, but it's not enough. With one hand, he sends a blast of flame straight at Jason. With nowhere to dodge, he throws up an energy barrier around himself, the fire washing over it like a wave. But Lung doesn't stop his attack, just keeps pouring on the power. And with his other hand, he start sending stream of flame towards Samuel, who's still lying on the ground in front of him.

I want to help. I seriously do. But I can't move, no matter what I do. I think Lung might have seriously broken something in my body. I can barely crawl on my hands and knees, trying to find something, anything I can use to help me get back into the fight.

A few feet away, I see a small steel bar lying on the sidewalk- maybe leftovers from construction? I start crawling towards it, the direction taking me farther away from Lung, who's still sending a steady blast of flame at Jason and Samuel. Have to help them somehow. Have to-

My thoughts break apart as I notice something flying our way, high above the street lights. It's a person, I realize, holding somebody else in one hand. That somebody else suddenly drops from the air, a crackling streak of cobalt blue moving through the air behind him or her as he or she slams into Lung, sending him flying backwards and ending the wash of flame. Samuel's somehow still perfectly fine underneath the blaze- whatever he made those scales out of is pretty tough.

Next, I realize that our mysterious cobalt savior is Battery, a member of the local Protectorate team, standing protectively in front of Samuel in her dark blue and cobalt attire. If I remember correctly, her power was super strength and speed- but only for short bursts, after which she had to stop to charge. Floating above her in midair is Dauntless, in his grey-and-bronze armor that looked like a Spartan soldier, complete with helmet plume. The shield and spear he holds in his hands crackle with pulsing white energy- apparently, Dauntless' power makes any parahuman-made tech he touched more powerful and versatile, with no known upper limits, but only once per day. I watch as he points his spear- sorry, _Arclance_- at Lung, sending a barrage of lightning bolts searing into dragon dude's body, making him roar and stumble backwards, raising his hands to try and block the blows.

Still unable to move, I can only sit there as Samuel reverts back to human form and comes running over to me. I manage to mumble a lame "Thanks" while he touches his hand to my arm and uses his power, triggering another series of bizarre visions that I can't remember. When it ends, I can suddenly get up easily. "That's some strong stuff." I say to Samuel, who beams happily. "Thanks for saving me."

"Don't worry about it." Says Samuel, turning to watch the battle. Battery rushes in for another attack, battering Lung's legs and torso. Lung roars and sends a blast of flame her way, but she has enough charge left to dash out his attack's radius, and Dauntless pounds him with another lightning barrage before he can recover. It looks like they're winning, but I remember our group's efforts to do the same- Lung will just keep healing and getting stronger. We need a conclusive way to end the fight.

Before I can think of anything, a gust of wind hits me in the face and makes me turn. Standing in front of us is Velocity, in his skintight orange-and-yellow bodysuit. If I remember correctly, he's Brockton Bay's other resident speedster, faster than Battery but nowhere near as strong. "You all alright?" He asks, seemingly talking to us while keeping both eyes on the battle. His form flickers, leaving behind afterimages, like he's going so fast he's still moving even when standing still.

"We're fine." Samuel steps in to answer. "Are you guys sure you can take Lung. He's kind of…" He trails off.

"Tough." Velocity fills in, nodding. "We know. Which is why you both need to get out of here immediately. We have more reinforcements coming in, but this fight is still going to get pretty rough. I'd get out of here as fast as I can." Without another word, he races off towards Lung, a sudden orange blur appearing all over the silver dragon's hide, flurrying him with light-quick punches.

Jason runs over to us, his bodysuit still sizzling a little bit from Lung's flame attack. "I'm okay, by the way, thanks for checking." He mutters. "What are we going to do now? Lung's getting so big I can't even hurt him anymore."

"I had a little more luck, but I don't think Lung's going to let me get close enough to hit him again." Says Samuel. "I'm going to go see what I can do to help Angela." He says, turning and running off.

As Samuel runs down the street, what looks like a rocket flies over his head, exploding-literally- into Lung and blasting out a significant portion of his right shoulder. Lung roars and sends out another burst of flame, sending Battery and Velocity running for cover. Dauntless flies in, his shield creating a bubble-shaped barrier around him that disperses the flames, but Lung swats at him with both arms, sending Dauntless, shield still intact, careening into a nearby building, the ensuing rubble burying him before he can get up.

Remembering my promise not to let anyone else get hurt, I dash over, not wasting a second before I start lifting rocks off Dauntless, who's visibly struggling under all the weight. _Thank goodness for super strength_, I think as I lift up a particularly large rock. Just then, noticing me, Lung raises his hand to send a blast of flame my way. I react quickly, heaving the mailbox-sized rock in my hands right at his face. It collides, exploding into fragments and doing little more than stunning him for a half second. Fortunately, that half second is all it takes for another rocket to slam into Lung's right shoulder, blowing more of him off into the night. Bellowing, Lung lunges down the street, heading for whatever is firing missiles at him. I return to my task, lifting more debris and throwing it into the street behind me.

A moment later, Taylor is at my side, helping to clear away some of the smaller pieces of rubble. "We have to finish this soon." She says, her eyes on the work in front of us. "Lung is just going to keep getting bigger and meaner unless we can hit him hard with something strong enough to take him down."

I nod, but don't say anything. My ideas for fighting Lung haven't worked out the best so far, so I'm trying to keep a lid on it for now. After a few more seconds of digging, we're able to scrape enough rubble off of Dauntless that he rises out of the remaining debris, hovering in midair. He nods and smiles and Taylor and I before taking off, heading back into the fray.

"I'm going to get us over there." I say to Taylor, who nods. I grab her around the waist, taking off and flying towards the battle.

It's chaos on the battlefield. Lung is in the middle of a loose cluster of capes, both members of our group and the Protectorate team. As Taylor and I land on a nearby roof, Battery kicks a newly arrived Assault in the back, with Assault using his kinetic energy manipulating powers sending him flying into Lung, knocking him backwards. Dauntless flies by, his Arclance extending repeatedly and slamming into Lung like a jackhammer. Miss Militia, who I realize was the source of the earlier rockets, opens fire with dual Uzis, while Angela follows suit with a barrage of colorful explosions.

We're keeping the pressure up, keeping Lung off his feet, but it's just not enough. His power is just regenerating every little bit of damage we can inflict, and random bursts of flame from all over his body are forcing any cape without super-durability to keep at a safe distance to avoid getting crisped like a fried egg. Another burst from Lung goes supernova, forcing back all the capes except for Dauntless, who throws up a shield, and Battery, who's in the midst of another of her energy charges.

"I'm almost out of bugs." Taylor says, watching the battle. "Lung destroyed almost my entire supply back in the alleyway, and the little I have left is getting obliterated pretty rapidly."

"Save what you have left." I say, barely understanding the logic behind my words even as I say them. "If we want that big hit you were talking about before, I have a feeling we're going to need them."

Taylor nods, then points at something I can't quite make out. "Look!"

Lung is locked in a deadly dance with that something. A few second later, I realize that it's Armsmaster, the leader of the local Protectorate, his dark blue armor illuminated by the random fires popping up on Lung's skin. His weapon, an enormous bladed stick that Parahumans Online calls a Halberd, is out and whirling, and I watch in awe as he drives it into Lung's shin, leaving the monster bellowing in pain. The Halberd whirls and extends, stabbing into Lung's chin. Dragon dude roars and sends off another enormous burst of fire, but Armsmaster is out of there faster than you can blink, flipping backwards before the flame even has a chance of touching him.

I remember vaguely that Armsmaster is called a Tinker- a Parahuman that specializes in inventing things. It makes me more than a little impressed to realize that Armsmaster doesn't have any super-speed abilities to avoid Lung's attacks- he's just _that _fast.

"Get ready." Taylor suddenly says. "I have a few bugs crawling on Miss Militia down there." Armsmaster is sending out a message to the other Protectorate capes, telling them to hit Lung with their strongest attack on his signal." She turns to me. "Do you have a plan?"

"Starting to form one." I say, nodding. "Any venomous bugs you have left, get them ready. We're going in. Tell the other guys, if they're still around, to get ready to." Taylor doesn't say anything, just turns to the battle. As I move to put the plan into action, I see a couple hundred bugs starting to form a loose cloud around her.

Jumping off the roof, I find Jason standing in the street, flinging energy blasts at Lung from afar. He turns to see me, temporarily stopping his attack. "What is it?" He asks.

"Your shields can protect me from fire and stuff, right?" I ask, bouncing on the heels of my feet. I feel exhausted, but the anticipation of the final attack has got my power pumping through me almost without my permission.

"Very observant. I've only been doing it all night." Jason responds, folding his arms. "What do you want with them?"

I don't dignify his less-than-subtle barb with a response, taking a moment to dash over and grab the metal bar I'd been trying to reach before, before dashing back. "Can you make them move?" I ask.

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay." I say, floating a few inches off the ground, my idea starting to form into a full-formed plan. "On my signal, form a shield around me. And don't let it go until Lung is on the ground reeling."

"Alright…" Jason responds, his belief in my plan obviously slim.

"_Five seconds until the signal, guys!_" Taylor calls from her rooftop. A couple more hundred bugs have joined her swarm, whirling and buzzing all around her. I see Emily hovering in midair close by- apparently, Samuel managed to get to her on time.

_Five_.

Armsmaster spins and swings his halberd, cutting a wide gash across Lung's chest.

_Four_.

Before Lung can react, Dauntless fires another lightning barrage at his feet, tripping him up.

_Three_.

"Form the shield now, Jason." I say. On cue, the crackling off-yellow barrier forms around me.

_Two_.

A crackling burst of fireworks from Angela bursts all around Lung, stunning him momentarily.

_One._

Armsmaster attacks again, driving his halberd- now tipped with a solid metal ball- into Lung's sternum, knocking him back. "_Now, American Protectorate!_" He roars.

"Don't let go, Jason!" And with that, I take off towards Lung, metal bar in my hands, energy shield enveloping my body. Closing in, I watch as Miss Militia hits Lung with another rocket, Dauntless slams into his body enveloped by a shield, Emily and Samuel slash their claws along Lung's right arm, a swarm of bugs attack Lung's face and neck, Velocity hurls a flying Assault into Lung's side. All at once.

Roaring so loud it feels like my eardrums are splitting open, Lung bursts into flames, all of his injuries starting to regenerate. The fire doesn't die down, growing larger and larger, pushing back the attacking line of capes. And I plunge forwards, metal bar in hand, pointed forward like a jousting lance.

Just as the inferno enveloping Lung turns white hot, I pass through his flame barrier, Jason's shield, Thank God, protecting me. I reach Lung, his remaining eye watching me in surprise. And then not watching me, as I plunge my metal bar right into his eye.

My forward momentum carries the bar so deep into his eye that I can only see the very tip of it by the time I'm finished. I'm surprised it doesn't pierce clean through his head. But it's finished, if a little messy.

All the fight going out of him, Lung falls to the ground, the fire dispersing, his massive form slowly shrinking as he clutches his still-impaled head, moaning in pain.

Miss Militia steps in, then. As I float to the ground, still standing over Lung, the bazooka she's been holding flashes with a green and black glow before reappearing in her hands as a containment foam launcher. That's standard PRT stuff- the foam is sort of like fire extinguisher foam, until you give it a few seconds. Then it hardens rapidly, trapping whoever's unlucky enough to get caught in it.

Everyone watches, the mood tense but slowly, very slowly, relaxing as Miss Militia sends a continuous spray of foam over the downed Lung, not stopping until he's caught and covered up to his neck. "We'll get Panacea or one of the other medics to get a look at his eye later." She says softly, the containment foam launcher flashing and reappearing as a Bowie knife on a strap on her waist.

"You all did well tonight." Armsmaster says, his deep but gentle voice already taking over the conversation. "Are there any other villains we should know about?"

"Oni Lee is probably still unconscious on a roof in that alleyway. And I think Bakuda is somewhere over there too." I say, pointing. Velocity flashes away, and a few moments later reappears, the still down Lee unconscious in his arms.

"I couldn't find Bakuda. She must've escaped." He says, shrugging. "There are a few ABB goons unconscious in the alleyway as well."

"We'll start the search for the rest tomorrow." Armsmaster replies, and then turns to us. The other kids are all standing behind me in a loose triangle, which I hadn't noticed until now. "Now, we're going to radio the PRT and get these criminals to the nearest jail cells that can hold them. I strongly recommend that you all get home to your parents and guardians, if you have any."

Wait wait wait wait wait. Is he saying we're not getting any credit for this? We captured a criminal all by ourselves and helped fight another, and we're not getting a single word of commendation for it? "Are you saying you're not going to give us any credit for any of this?" I say, my hands curling into fists. "That's _not_ going to happen."

Armsmaster folds his arms. "You are all unregistered minors who do not work with the Wards or any other known cape organization in Brockton Bay. We are collecting these criminals. That will be all." Suddenly, all the charisma in his voice turns to stone and ice.

My blood boils, hearing that. He can't just be saying that we're not going to get any kudos for risking our lives.

But before I can do or say anything, a number of figures drop in from the shadows, surrounding the Protectorate. I freeze as a thin girl in a harlequin costume presses a knife to Miss Militia's throat. And then I hear a voice I'm sure I'll never forget.

"My apologies, Armsmaster, but your statements on all grounds are wrong."

...

**Dun dun dun! *Dramatic Thunder* And thus, Coil finally re-enters the story. Sorta. Is this a spoiler, since I never actually confirm his name? If it is, super sorries!**

**I got a lot of helpful feedback on last chapter's Oni Lee fight, and what with this chapter's battle having a lot more characters and powers flying around, I desperately need reviews to know how well I did! Keep following and fav'ing too!**

**See ya!**

**-Imageination**


	6. C1P5: Serpent's Tale

**Hey guys! Really really really sorry that this update is coming this week instead of last, like I promised. I'm trying really hard to maintain a weekly schedule, but it's tough, what with school being a pain in the neck and my parents always having something to be done in a time where I'd much rather be writing. Next week's update should be punctual, since I have a pretty good idea of what it's going to be like. Hope you like it!**

**I'm not a big fan of this chapter, to be honest, which is another reason as to why this section took so long to write. I know it sounds weird, not being a fan of my own work, but it's true. I guess it's a little bit of air out of the balloon after so much cool action happening in the last two chapters. Aw well.**

**As always, I appreciate feedback! Keep reviewing, following, and fav'ing!**

**...**

Chapter 1, Part 5: Serpent's Tale

"What is this?" Armsmaster demands, slowly, his voice low and dangerous. "Who are you people?"

"If you'll take a second look, Armsmaster, I assure you you'll know exactly who we are."

That prompts me to do the same. The Protectorate is surrounded by four _very _different individuals, all villains, as far as I can tell. Circus, in a grey, purple and violet harlequin costume, stands behind Miss Militia, (And, coincidentally, in front of Lung) with a knife pressed to Militia's throat. It takes me a moment to recognize her, thanks to the change in her attire- Circus is a small-time professional safecracker and bodyguard from the Boardwalk, who changes the details of her costume every time she goes out.

In forms of cape powers, Circus is a little bit of everything- enhanced reflexes, coordination, and accuracy, minor fire manipulation, and a handy little pocket dimension that she can store or pull items out of at will. Despite her tendency to work alone and a seemingly weak power set, she's managed to avoid the cops and the Protectorate for years by keeping her head down and never trying anything drastic. Not exactly something to idolize for a wannabe hero like me, but still impressive.

But the question is- why is she _here_? Like I said, Circus works alone. Yet, here she is, with a bunch of other well-known criminal capes.

I see Über and Leet next- ugh, forget what I said about 'well-known'. Those two guys are a pair of crusading geeks slash criminals, with a different classic video game motif every time they go out in costume. Today, they're apparently cosplaying for _Final Fantasy VII_- scrawny Über is dressed as Cloud Strife, complete with the impossibly spiky blonde hair, hefting an enormous sword that he's pinning Velocity down with in one hand, and a complicated, glowing pistol in the other, pointing it at Assault. The more muscular Leet is dressing as Barret Wallace, one arm covered by the guy's trademark gun arm, the barrel of the gun pointing straight at Dauntless, who hovers in midair while watching it intently.

The last member of the four, however, I don't recognize. He's tall, taller than me, even, but thin, almost to the point of being emaciated. He wears a solid black bodysuit that covers everything, even his mouth and nose. The only thing that keeps him from looking like a walking shadow is the white snake design. It starts on his forehead and curls downwards from there, wrapping all the way around his body numerous times until it stops somewhere around his knees. I watch, biting my lip with anxiety, as snake dude walks calmly, not even a weapon in hand, out of the shadows to face Armsmaster, putting himself right in the middle of the Protectorate circle.

"Coil." Armsmaster hisses, the disgust clear on his voice. Armsmaster seems to know who this Coil dude is, but it's not ringing any bells with me. I silently curse myself for not spending more time looking up local supervillains on the wikis before getting out here. Too much in a rush, as always.

Armsmaster raises a hand, like he's gesturing to the other Protectorate members, but Coil's arm snaps out like a trap and gently forces Armsmaster's hand down while Coil clucks his tongue, making a 'tsk-tsk' sound. "It's good to see you too, Armsmaster. But we'll have none of that."

"You have about ten seconds before I have Battery and Velocity send all four of you to kingdom come." Armsmaster warns, his hands balling into fists. "I suggest you use the time wisely."

"I wouldn't be so confident, most esteemed leader." Coil shoots back while backing up and gesturing grandly to the other Protectorate members. "As you can see, I didn't bring enough troops to lock down all of your teammates. Silly me. However." He says, and points to Assault, who's been warily eyeing the laser pistol being pointed at him by Über.

"I assure you, little Über has your Movers _quite _under control, Armsmaster." Coil doesn't sound the slightest bit worried. I bite my lip again. What is this guy's game? What's he planning?

"Oh? How so?" Armsmaster asks. Geez, if looks could kill, Coil would be a smoldering spot on the floor right now. _Can looks kill? Mental note to look that up online later_.

"As you can see, Über's sword has Velocity pinned down. It's a special invention of Leet's, designed to magnify the gravity of anything it strikes." Coil goes on.

"One of my best." Leet chirps, smiling broadly, completely out of context with his intimidating appearance.

"I'm afraid that Velocity isn't strong enough to overcome the extra gees. He's quite unable to move, as of the moment. As for Battery…" Coil gestures to Assault, who's warily watching the laser pistol Über is still pointing at him.

"Now, refresh my memory, Armsmaster. I'm not sure if you're aware of the… _special_ relationship Assault and Battery share. It's rather sweet, really." The grimace on the blue-clad hero is all the indication Coil needs. Coil clucks his tongue again. "No no no, Armsmaster, I'm afraid that Battery won't lift a finger while her precious Assault is in risk of harm."

Hang on a second- Battery and Assault are in a relationship? I guess that makes sense, given their themed codenames. But I once read a dusty old forum thread on Parahumans Online, with some guy talking about how Assault used to be a supervillain who broke other villains out of jail, before he turned to the light side. If it was true, why would Battery ever date someone like that? My head feels fuzzy and weird.

"You have to do it, puppy." Assault says quietly, staring right at Battery. "Don't worry about me. You have to do it."

"No!" Battery shouts loudly, her voice raw with fear and pain. "I won't let you die!" Then, quietly, "I'm sorry, Armsmaster."

Armsmaster- and me- look around at the circle of captured heroes. Velocity is struggling under Über's sword, to no avail. Miss Militia is armed, an assault rifle in either hand, but every time she even twitches, Circus presses her knife deeper into Militia's throat. I can see a small trickle of blood starting to run down her costume. Dauntless is floating in midair, his eyes on Leet's arm cannon. Battery is standing, defeated, her head down and arms at her sides.

I can visibly see the fight drain out of Armsmaster- like letting air out of a balloon. His shoulders slump, his Halberd lowers, the blade hitting against the pavement. "What do you want?" He asks, slowly, in a voice that suddenly sounds both extremely tired and quietly angry.

"It's quite simple, really. You and your Protectorate teammates will head back to your headquarters. Whether or not you choose to report this incident is your choice. However…" Coil's head moves towards Oni Lee, who's on the floor, unconscious, at Über's feet- Velocity must've dropped him when Über pinned down the Mover with his sword. "This little ragtag bunch here," He continues, gesturing to the other kids and I; "Will be turning Lung and Oni Lee over to PRT custody, claiming full credit in doing so. You will not attempt to intercede in any of this."

An uncomfortably long silence follows, with Armsmaster and Coil staring each other down like they're about to do one of those Mexican standoff things. Then Armsmaster nods. "Very well." He says. "But don't you think even for a second that this isn't going to come back to bite you, Coil. That's a promise."

"I'm sure it is, Armsmaster." Coil responds, his voice perfectly even, despite the mocking subtext. "Run along, now."

Armsmaster nods again, his hands balled into fists, and gestured to the other Protectorate members. Dauntless goes first, flying off towards the Protectorate HQ, with Leet's gun-barrel hand following him as he flies. Assault follows, Battery running over to him as he walks, with Über's laser pistol aimed at their backs. Circus releases Miss Militia, who morphs her machine guns into a katana, sheathed in a scabbard on her back, and walks away, watching warily behind her. Finally, Über lets Velocity out from under his sword, allowing the speedster to dash off faster than I can blink. Armsmaster himself goes last, his Halberd gripped so tight I'm somewhat surprised it doesn't snap in half.

When they're out of sight, the other supervillains relax, drop their weapons, and cluster around Coil, who turns to us. "We should probably be leaving now." Coil says. "I've no doubt Armsmaster will keep his promise of letting us go, but parahuman fights _do _attract attention. There's likely to be a PRT squad in the area within ten minutes."

"Seven minutes to be exact, sir." Leet reports. How exactly he knows that, I'm not sure- maybe some kind of Tinker-tech built into his armor or something?

"Thank you, Leet. Remind me to include a little bonus in your pay for this operation." Coil says to Leet, who gives another goofy smile. Seriously- is this guy a cosplay fan or a supervillain? I honestly can't tell.

"Now, I'm afraid, we come to a crossroads." Coil says, turning to us again. "As some of you might know, I am in command of substantial capital and sway in Brockton Bay's underworld. As likely none of you know, I also have some clout in the city's more… legitimate reaches, shall we say."

Turning, he points to Lung and Oni Lee. "As I promised, you six will be allowed to turn in these criminals and claim full credit for it. After that, we're free to go our separate ways."

"Something tells me there's a 'but'." Taylor says, as she walks forward to stand on my left side.

"You're quite observant, Miss Hebert." Coil says. I notice Taylor flinch for a half second as he says her last name. "Don't worry, I'm not in the business of outing capes. Not at the moment, anyway. However, I do see potential of us forming something of an alliance."

"Work with _you_? Fat chance." That's Jason, who at some point silently moved forward to my right side, opposite from Taylor. "You're a _bad guy_. I don't know about the others, but I take down the villains, not work in cahoots with them."

"All good points, Mister Verner." Coil responds, his voice still keeping that creepy even tone. How does he act so stoic like that? It's creeping me out. "And you're correct. I am a 'bad guy'. A supervillain. One might even call me a criminal mastermind. On the other hand, I'm all the more willing to expand my influence through legitimate channels."

"What exactly are you saying?" A shaky voice, which takes me a few moments to realize is my own. Then, more confidently, "You say you want to work with us, and yet you make it sound like it'll benefit you more than us."

"You misunderstand me, Mister Tilmitt." Coil stares right at me, and I can practically feel the ice spreading in my blood as he does so. Geez, this guy gives me the creeps. "I want to extend you and the others an offer to form a cape team- an independent one, more like New Wave or Haven than the Wards."

Just then, Leet cuts into the conversation. "If you'll excuse me for saying so, we're going to have to speed this up, sir. We have about a minute before the PRT is close enough to find us before we can get to the evac site."

Coil nods. "The time for semantics is over, I'm afraid. So I'm going to present you all with a choice: You can come with me now, and see more of this cape team I've spoken of, or you can decline. But know that _if_ you decline, the Protectorate is going to remember your face. You'll have to spend the rest of your days as a cape with the Protectorate and PRT knowing that you were aided and abetted by known criminals."

It's faint, but I think I can hear sirens and the screeching of tires in the distance. "You have approximately thirty seconds to decide." Says Coil.

Well, isn't this a bit of a sadistic choice? On the one hand, it's everything I've ever dreamed of: being able to work on a team of capes without the Protectorate or some other goodie-goodie organization breathing down my neck about being careful and restraining my powers from their full potential. On the other hand, it also involves joining forces with what looks like one of the most dangerous criminals in the city. I feel paralyzed, unable to move, think, even breath.

"Once you've decided, you may come stand over here." Says Coil, as he moves over to Lung's unconscious body- the pain from that steel rod I jammed in his eye must've made him pass out when we weren't paying attention. The other villains join him, with Jason, Emily and Taylor following. Wait- _Taylor_? I wasn't sure about Jason or Emily, but Taylor had struck me as the person here who had the most morals. How on earth could she justify working with a supervillain, even if it was to fight crime?

I'm equally as floored when Samuel walks over to Coil too. The kid obviously has some sort of dark past he's trying to get away from, but he's still an impressionable little guy. It's all I can do to watch, my mouth half open, struggling to say something, as Angela, after hesitating for a second, walks over to the villains too. And now there's just me, standing on the other side of the street, facing all of them.

"Well, Mister Tilmitt?" Coil asks. "The clock is ticking. Either you are with us or not."

What the heck am I supposed to say to that? If I go, I'm openly allying with a criminal mastermind. And if I stay where I am, I might never get the chance to be a legitimate cape again. Well, for a certain meaning of 'legitimate'.

But then I see the other kids. I'd never been good at making friends at school- it's always been study just enough to make the grade; work hard for track and field; try to be the best wherever you are. No time for friends. But these kids… I could actually _talk_ with them. Speak my mind without it feeling weird and inorganic. Like family, someone I could connect with. Someone who understood me.

With that thought in mind, my feet starting automatically moving me towards Coil. His expression is indecipherable under his mask, but I would bet money that he's grinning from ear to ear.

"It's good to see you've all accepted my offer." Coil says. "Über, Leet, get us out of here."

Über nods, straps his gigantic sword to his back and starts fishing around for something in his pants pocket. I just stare at the colossal blade on his back- I understand that Tinker work is decades ahead of modern technology, but how in the heck did Leet manage to get such a gigantic weapon so light? I'd read online and heard from other kids who follow the cape scene that Leet is something of a bungling inventor, being able to create a lot of things but usually not producing very good results. Apparently, he'd improved since Coil had taken him and Über under his wing… or whatever their working relationship was.

Über finally finds what he's been looking for- a small, reflective green orb the size of a golf ball. That's probably something from _Final Fantasy_, but hell if I know what it's really supposed to be. Über crushes the orb in his hand, scattering fragments of green glass all over the floor.

For a few seconds, nothing happens. The police sirens in the distance are starting to get louder and louder. But before I can say something, I can feel my body moving up, and then sideways…

…

My eyes open, staring straight up at a dark, cloudy sky. _Something is wrong_, my body tells me, _Get up! Fight back!_

I spring upwards, using a little of my power to rise a good ten feet in the air before loosening up into a hover. I look all around, trying to figure out where I am.

It's a square courtyard, dingy and gray, but surprisingly clean. There's one alley leading the way out, facing directly adjacent from where I'm floating. Parked against one wall are two large, black vans, like police vehicles. What is this? Where did that stupid orb thing take me?

"If you'll look down, Mr. Tilmitt, I assure you this will all make much more sense." Coil's voice calls from somewhere below me.

I look downwards, still a little wary. The other kids and supervillains are all standing in a group, looking up at me. Hoping they can't see my face turning red in the dark, I drop back down, landing in the midst of the other kids.

"I apologize for any confusion you may have experienced as a result of Leet's teleporting spheres." Coil says. "They're a little too similar to a previous design he made, and as a result a little volatile in their results."

"They're called _Materia_." I can hear Leet mutter under his breath. If Coil heard him, he doesn't give any indication.

"As you can see, we have two vans prepared to take you to a clandestine location so we can discuss terms." Coil says. "You six may choose which van to travel in. Van #1, the vehicle closer to us, will be driven by Circus and myself. Van #2 will be driven by Über and Leet." Without waiting for us to make any decisions, Coil starts walking towards the van, with Circus following behind him, walking on her tiptoes.

No way am I spending more time with creepy Coil than I have to. Without even hesitating, I follow after Über and Leet, not slowing down until I reach the back doors of the van. I pull then open… And then almost jump out of my skin as I see who's inside. Or should I say _what's_ inside.

A massive, burly man that has to kneel down just to fit inside is sitting inside the back of the truck. He's more machine than man, with enormous, segmented metallic arms, ending in gigantic metal hands that could probably hold me inside, and similarly huge metal legs, metal body armor all across his torso, and what looks like a miniaturized steam engine across his back. His upper face is covered by an oversized pair of goggles, with a short, greasy ponytail on the back of his head. The lower half of his face is tan, with the comings of a beard forming along his jawline.

Before I can start screaming _Holy Christ Help There's Someone in the Back of the Car Where's the Feds Where's My Mom Somebody Help_ or something to that effect, Taylor taps me on the arm. "That's Trainwreck." She says. "The guy that helped me get away from Lung last time."

"He wanted to come and help out, but he's a bit too noisy for the stealth operation the boss wanted." Über informs us as he slips into the driver's seat on the other end of the van's glass partition. Somehow, his gigantic broadsword doesn't detract from his ability to sit down in the slightest. "So we left him here to watch the trucks." Trainwreck nods, then shrugs. Something tells me he's a man of few words.

I climb into the van, sitting tentatively across from Trainwreck. He stares at me for half a second, then looks away, seemingly lost in thought. Apparently, I don't warrant a lot of attention. Taylor, Sam, and Angela pile in after me, all sitting on the same side of the van as I do. I guess they aren't much more inclined to sit next to Mister Iron Giant than I am.

"Everybody in?" Says Leet, looking back through the opening. "If you'll excuse us, boss man says we have to close the partition so you can't see where we're going. Sorry, everybody." And with that, Leet slides the partition closed.

The van revs to life, backs up, and pulls out of the courtyard, heading out onto the street. Well, I assume it's a street, anyway. I have no idea where Leet's teleporting orbs took us. For all I know, they took us to some alleyway in New Delhi. Leet's tech has a reputation of messing up pretty badly, and I find myself biting my lip again as the van drifts through whatever city we're in.

The ride drags on, to the point that I start counting seconds on my hands to avoid going crazy. I spend the time thinking what's going on at home- is Michaela wondering where I am right now? Did Mom and Dad get home from work yet? Are _they_ wondering where I am right now? Some inane thought in the back of my head reminds me that I forgot to get milk, like I promised. "Sorry, Carly." I say, to no one in particular.

"What?" Taylor asks, turning towards me. "Did you say something?"

"Nah, it's nothing." I stare at Taylor's gold-lensed mask. What's she thinking about in there? It's annoyingly unreadable. "I don't suppose your bugs can 'see' where we're going?"

Taylor shakes her head. "I left all my bugs back on the street after Über teleported us. Even now, we're moving too fast for me to get any close enough to help, and I don't know Brockton Bay's geography well enough to tell where we are on the fly."

"Hey, lovebirds." Angela calls from farther down the bench. I hope she can see my glare from under my helmet. "Why don't you just ask Muscles over here where we are?" She says, gesturing to Trainwreck.

I look over at Trainwreck, who doesn't seem to be paying attention to our conversation at all. "Hey, Trainwreck." I say. "Can you tell us where we are? Where we're going?"

"Brockton Bay." Trainwreck says, a little dreamily, not looking at me. Is he high or something? Taylor told me Trainwreck's a member of the Merchants, who have a bad reputation of basically being a pack of drug dealers lucky enough to have powers. Even if he really works for Coil, that doesn't change the fact that he's probably using something.

With Trainwreck's noncommittal response not giving us anything, I lapse back into silence. Roughly another ten minutes pass without anything happening. I say 'roughly' because I have no idea what time it is exactly- I was dumb enough not to bring my phone before leaving the house, thinking it could've been traced or something. In hindsight, bringing something that could call the cops, provide GPS, and tell me the time might have been a good idea.

A sudden stop of the van pulls me out of my thoughts. A sound alerts me to Leet as the super-geek slides open the partition. "Everybody out!" He crows, in a voice that's way too enthusiastic. "Boss man has plans for all of you!"

Before me or any of the other kids can stand up, Trainwreck beats us to it. I watch as he slowly shuffles out towards the back doors of the van, being careful not to hit into us, before opening the back door and jumping out into the gloom. I follow behind him, feeling a little nervous. The other kids all get out of the van behind me.

Trainwreck doesn't stop and wait for us, though. He just keeps walking, his metal frame gradually vanishing into the darkness. "Where is he going?" I ask aloud. No one answers. The air is almost completely silent, save for the faraway sounds of passing cars and waves on the beach.

Thankfully, Über and Leet appear from around the front side of the van before anything else happens. "This way." Über says, motioning us on with his right hand. I notice he seems a lot less excited about this than Leet- maybe he prefers not working with someone like Coil? _That makes two of us_, I think to myself.

As my eyes adjust to the dim, I realize the van is parked in the middle of an abandoned construction site- as a matter of fact, the same construction site I'd flown over before while heading to the Docks. Creepy.

A little ways away from Über and Leet's van, I can see the van Coil, Circus, Emily, and Jason had driven in. Emily and Jason are standing in front of Coil on one side of the van, while Circus leans against the back, her mask pulled up ever so slightly, smoking a cigarette.

Seeing us coming, Coil says something to Circus, quiet enough for me not to hear it. Circus nods, rolls down her mask, and heads back up to the front of the van, opening and closing the driver's door behind her. Turning my head to look behind me, I notice Über and Leet are standing by the back of the van we drove here in, talking excitedly between themselves- probably about either video games or their next heist.

"Where are we?" Taylor asks as we approach Coil. "Are we at least still in Brockton Bay?"

"A clandestine location to better discuss my proposal, as promised." Coil responds. "And, yes, Miss Hebert, we are indeed still in Brockton Bay. In fact, I'm sure Mr. Tilmitt knows exactly where we are." I am not kidding right now- I will _bet money_ that Coil is smirking from ear to ear under that stupid bodysuit of his.

"Now, I believe I've kept you hanging on a string for long enough." Coil says. "I've proposed that the six of you form a team of capes, financed by myself, of course." Before anyone can say anything, he holds up a hand. "You all probably have reservations about allying with a known criminal of Brockton Bay, I know. However, I'm quite confident that you'll accept, in time."

"Really." Says Jason, folding his arms in front of his chest. "I'd like one good reason as to why _I_ would help someone like you."

"Perhaps the fact that Armsmaster left your parents to die in a collapsing building in order that he might catch the criminal responsible?" Coil responds, staring right at Jason, his voice cool and without inflection. Jason just stands there, stock still, his arms at his sides, dumbfounded. "Hard to imagine siding with a cape faction that allows such atrocities, hm?"

_Armsmaster left Jason's parents to die_? I think to myself. _Why would a hero ever do something like that_?

Coil turns to Taylor next. I already know what he's going to say; I can practically think the words even as he talks. "You are bullied in school by a certain Sophia Hess, also known as the Ward member Shadow Stalker, and her associates. When you learned that the Wards could allow such a member in their ranks, that promptly killed any thoughts of you ever joining them, I would imagine."

Taylor doesn't respond for an uncomfortably long time. When she does, it's only a noncommittal, strained "Yes."

The pieces start falling into place together in my head, now. I knew Taylor got bullied a lot in school, but I had never assumed the person who did it was _Sophia Hess_. The online forums talked a lot about how Shadow Stalker didn't mesh in with the other Wards well and preferred working on her own, but it hadn't made sense to me as to _why_ until now. Bullying was all about control, I'd known, seen, and experienced that my whole life. On a team where you're not the leader, you lose that control. No wonder Sophia didn't want to work with the Wards if she didn't have to.

Coil turns to Samuel, who flinches a little bit under the supervillain's gaze. "Your father is Niko Vasil." Coil says, "Better known to the cape community as Heartbreaker. For all their willingness to recruit those who genuinely want to change, a young boy who could potentially be under the control of his father or one of his siblings wouldn't work well with the Protectorate's ideals."

_Who is Heartbreaker? Is he the reason Samuel ran away from Quebec? _I wonder. It sounds like Samuel comes from a lot of bad people. Good to see he's managed to be pretty nice himself- as far as I can tell, anyway.

"That's what happens when you come from a family of Master-class capes." Samuel says, a little wobbly, his voice sounding like he's trying to be nonchalant and failing hard. "My mother is Gethsemane, by the way." His voice cracks at the mention of that name. Vague memories of a healer cape who went by Gethsemane and used to work for the Guild, the Protectorate's Canadian counterpart, stir in the back of my head. _Did something happen to her? Is that why Samuel ran away? Did Heartbreaker do something to her?_

Coil nodded. "I had my suspicions as to that, but I prefer to stick to concrete facts whenever I can." He looks to Emily next. "As for you. You-"

"Am a Case 53." Emily finishes for him. "The public don't like Case 53's. The Protectorate doesn't like Case 53's. So they don't want me." She says, looking down at the floor, then repeats, "They don't want me."

The phrase 'Case 53' is a new one to me. Is it because Emily's power modified her body, not just her abilities? Again, I've never heard of a trigger event that caused the person's body to change. I still have a _lot_ to learn about the cape world, apparently.

I find myself biting my lip against my own better judgment as Coil turns his heel to look at Angela and me. "You two, however, are a bit more of a mystery to me. You have no criminal connections, no personal vendettas against the Protectorate, no particular reason that you wouldn't join. And yet, here you stand, bargaining with a supervillain instead of fighting him alongside to Wards. _Why_?"

"My whole family is a bunch of parahumans." Angela says, crossing her arms. She actually looks _bored_, of all things. It's a marked change after that terrified look she'd been sporting for most of the fight with Lung. "But they're all Rogues, in it for the cash, for the fame. Guess I follow in their footsteps. I don't belong with those goodie-goodie Wards. But hey. If you got money and power and you're willing to fork it over, set me up. I'm all on board."

Coil nods slowly, obviously taking in everything that Angela just laid down. "I believe you're something that was once described as a greedy songbird." He says. "But that's something I can work with. Quite well, in fact."

Then he looks at me. Stares, is more like it. I can't really tell with the mask, anyway. "Mister Tilmitt, I've caught wind of some of your exploits. Top of the track team every year since sixth grade. Commitment to be the best at all times. Perhaps that bleeds into your life as a hero?"

I let out a deep exhale before answering, trying to gather my thoughts. "You're probably right, Coil. It's probably true that me wanting to be the best is what got me standing here right now. But you're still a supervillain. And I'm not sure being the best is going to take me that far."

"Oh?" Says Coil. "Are you saying that me being a 'bad guy' automatically infers that I am in the wrong at all times?"

"Well… no, that's not what I'm saying." I admit.

"I'm offering you a choice, Mister Tilmitt." Coil says. "And the answers are yes or no. This offer won't last forever. I'm afraid you're quite with us or against us." Coil looks around at all of us, one at a time. "What I am offering is also a second chance. As I've said, you're all those who have rejected the Protectorate and Wards, for one reason or another, despite the opinions of those around you. And yet, you all still desire to be heroes and work for the greater good. Perhaps you might say, doing the right things for the wrong reasons."

Coil snaps his fingers, and Leet and Über draw over from their conversation, while Circus steps out of the van and moves to Coil's side. "I'll contact you all again tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully you all with have made your decisions by then. You have a lot of thinking to do. You'll all be sent home now. If you prefer to travel alone, feel free to do so, but otherwise you may take a ride with Über and Leet."

The other kids all start breaking in separate directions. With a flap of her wings, Emily takes off, disappearing into the night air. The rest all start heading towards the van. But I stand where I am, my mind wracked by indecision. So many pro's and con's to this decision, all balled into one. And I… I don't even know what I'm going to do.

Taylor notices me standing there and stops walking towards the van, turning to look at me. "Are you coming, Matt?" She asks.

"No." I say, making up my mind without even realizing it. "I'd rather be alone right now. I… I have to think. About a lot of things." I take one last look at Taylor. "I'll see you tomorrow in school."

Taylor nods and turns away, and I watch as she walks the rest of the way to Über and Leet's van before climbing into the back. As the vans pull away, heading off into the night in opposite directions, I stand there in the dark construction site, listening to the night sounds of Brockton Bay all around me.

Quietly, tiredly, I release my power, my whole body aching from a long day's work. I start levitating in the air, slowly floating towards my house.

It takes twenty minutes to reach home- in a better state, I could have managed it in twenty _seconds_. I float in the air, watching my house from up high, before I sigh deeply and gently glide down onto the roof. I crawl through the window, finding the darkened bedroom just as I left it. I check the clock by my desk- it reads 10:30 PM. Mom and Dad and Michaela are probably all furious with me for staying out so late.

I can barely even think about that. Too tired to change into pajamas, I just strip off my costume and helmet, kicking it under my bed before collapsing onto the sheets, my eyes closing like drawn shades.

Even then, it takes me a long, long time to fall asleep.

...

**Wee! Finally done!**

**Coil was a fun character to write for. I hope I ended this chapter on a good note- I changed the ending of Matt's talk with Coil multiple times before being mostly satisfied with the version you're reading now.**

**Speaking of which, yes, this chapter is finally finished, but not quite- I'm going to end it with an Interlude Chapter, Worm-style. No spoilers as to who the narrator of the interlude is, but those familiar with the first chapter of Worm might have an idea in their heads. Chapter 2, with a different narrator, should begin in two weeks, provided that life or procrastination don't get to me first. *Brandishes baseball bat in case of spontaneous procrastination ambushes* **

**Feedback for Coil and his lackeys would be GREATLY appreciated, since they're a lot more important to the story than any one fight scene. Any criticism, good or bad, is welcomed. It's all part of the grand adventure that is trying to match the beauty of fiction that is Worm.**

**See Ya!**

**-Imageination**


	7. Interlude: Michaela

**Hey guys! This update was originally planned for yesterday rather than today, but it turned out to be quite a bit longer than originally intended, so it looks like you're all stuck reading it on Turkey Day. Or, y'know, on a later date, that's totally cool too. (Coughcoughtotallynotcoolcoughcough)**

**Interludes, interludes, interludes... I'm gonna stop saying Interludes now. This chapter didn't turn out as fun as I originally planned, and it seems like I have a lot of work to do to get used to writing third person again, but it establishes a lot of our story's backstory (And then some) and I hope you like it.**

**That's... really all I have to say. Keep reviewing, following, and fav'ing!**

...

Interlude 1

_July, 2010_

With a grinding of wheels on pebbles and gravel, the van pulled into the parking spot, and the girls all piled out. They'd been planning this for months- white-water rafting, just the four of them, a break from the craziness that was preparing to head to college and start the next chapter of their lives.

Michaela got out last, taking a second to take in their surroundings even as her friends were chattering and busying themselves with getting ready to go.

"I'll go pay for the tickets!" Darcie said, running off towards the ticket booth at the edge of the small parking lot, her sandals kicking up gravel and other debris from the lot floor as she ran.

"I've got the life jackets and paddles." That was Jen, opening up the trunk of the van and rifling around among the mountains of junk they'd thrown haphazardly back there, muttering under her breath about how it would look much nicer if they'd just let _her_ do it.

"Michaela, can you help me get the kayak off the roof?" Kayla asked, staring mournfully at the far away top of the van from her short stature.

"Got it!" Michaela chirped, climbing up the side of the van in a matter of moments, gingerly undoing the zip ties holding the kayak in place and lowering it down to Kayla.

To be honest, she felt a little guilty about being here. Matt had wanted to go so badly, had begged and pleaded for days, maybe even weeks. She'd finally managed to placate him by promising to take him along the next time she and the girls went to do something like this. She'd meant it, though, unlike the usual brother-sister promise.

Michaela hopped off the roof, helping a visibly struggling Kayla to heft the kayak over their heads. The two girls headed for the ticket booth, giggling as they went- they probably looked ridiculous, holding the gigantic kayak over their heads.

The guy in charge of the usual safety warnings was already yammering on by the time they'd made it over to Darcie and Jen. "Eventually, you're going to reach a spot with two paths going down the river. You'll know it's the one when you see a yellow sign at the fork. Unless you're all extremely good rafters, I suggest that you don't take the path on the left. It's really rough and goes over a couple of small waterfalls. The path on the left is much calmer, if you're not rank-A beginners, you should have no problems with it."

"We'll be careful." Jen said, nodding, before turning to shoot a glare at the others. "_Won't we_, girls?"

Setting down the kayak, Michaela held up her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't look at me."

Some walking, setting up, and a few more bored safety warnings from the guy in charge, and they were on the river, spray already blasting in their faces. Jen sat in the front, navigating, Darcie behind her. Kayla, the smallest of the four and the only one without a paddle, sat third from the front, using a bucket to scoop water out of the kayak. Michaela, the strongest of the four, sat in the back.

For the first few minutes, it went just fine- the four girls were all soaking wet within a matter of seconds, but that wasn't anything special when it came to whitewater rafting. The kayak went up and down, up and down, over and over again, riding the surf, like some kind of wet roller coaster. Michaela loved it, always had. Matt probably would have, too. _Wonder what he's doing right now_, she thought to herself.

"Hang on!" Jen suddenly shouted backwards at the other girls, snapping Michaela out of her thoughts. "First waterfall coming up!" Looking around the other girls, Michaela could see the water flowing downwards, out of sight.

But it was barely a waterfall, really, barely even a slope. The kayak were over it and back on the river before you could blink. Michaela poured on the power, rowing faster. Wasn't white-water rafting supposed to be intense? Or had she somehow gotten that notion in her head between now and the last time they'd done something like this? Either way, she needed a bigger challenge.

"I think I can see the yellow sign the guy at the beach was talking about!" Jen yelled, not a moment too late. "Yeah, that's definitely it!"

Finally, something interesting. Holding her head up over Kayla's, Michaela could see the yellow sign, rooted in the dirt at the tip of the fork in the river, dutifully marking where the river diverged between safe and dangerous. The water was visibly rushing in two directions, the route on the right moving gently as a white-water river could manage, and the other, on the left, going madly down an obvious incline.

Michaela could already imagine the adventure of heading down the harder route. Heading down waterfalls, making hairpin turns, desperately trying not to fall out of the boat- it would be an incredible thrill ride.

"We all want to go on the calmer side, right?" Jen called back to the other girls. Darcie and Kayla chorused back in the affirmative.

Wait- what? They wanted to go the _easy_ way? What was the point of all this if they didn't go the fun way? "What are you talking about?" She yelled over the din of the raging waters. "We're going the hard way!"

With that, Michaela started paddling to the left, slamming her paddle into the water again and again, trying to get the kayak to change course. Jen and Darcie redoubled their efforts to get the boat moving towards the safer side, while Kayla frantically scooped water out of the boat, all three yelling at Michaela to stop and help them.

But Michaela was stronger than Jen and Darcie combined. She _knew_ she was. She kept paddling, trying to overpower their combined efforts to move the boat away from the dangerous route. They were getting close to the fork now, if they didn't choose a path soon, they'd end up grounded on the fork. Michaela kept pushing, trying to get the kayak to move like she wanted…

Then a lot of things happened at once. The kayak had started to turn sideways, what with all the paddling trying to move it in both directions. Now the flow of both routes- rough and calm- were pulling on it, trying to make it move in two directions at once. The kayak was starting to list to one side, threatening to tip over and spill its inhabitants over the edge.

And then it did.

Darcie, Jen and Kayla slammed into the side of the kayak as it flipped onto its side, all three girls somehow managing to stay inside without getting thrown into the river. Michaela wasn't so lucky. She'd been trying hard to turn the kayak the way she wanted, and hadn't really been concerned for her safety, not opting to brace herself against anything if something happened. The other girls watched in horror as Michaela went flying clean out of the kayak.

For a half second, Michaela was airborne, spinning over and over in midair, foam spray and her own whirling hair blinding her. Then she crashed into the river, endless gallons of unstoppable liquid enveloping her. The roar of the powerful rush of water completely drowned out the other girls' screams as they desperately tried to get the kayak right-side up and find a way to help their friend.

Michaela rolled over and over in the water, thousands of gallons of it pounding her again and again as she was swept away by the current. She banged into something hard- probably a big rock on the riverbed- and cringed as pain swept through her body. She struggled, trying to get up, to take a breath, but the water kept pounding her back down.

She was going to die. If something didn't happen to save her soon, she'd drown or get smashed against a big rock or something else would happen and she was going to die. Michaela felt her lungs about to pop from the pressure, what little air she could scrounge by thrusting her head against the water repeatedly pounded out of her by the unrepentant ongoing flow of the river.

This was such a stupid idea. Why couldn't she just have gone with the others? Always a thrill seeker, Michaela reminded herself.

Then she banged into another rock- this one big, as Michaela felt pain exploded through her backside. Swinging around, she desperately took hold of the rock, trying to not get sent flying by the current. With a feat of Herculean strength, she managed to force her head above water, taking in a big gulp of air, still wrapping her limbs around the rock like her life depended on it- after all, it probably did.

Then she was gone again, the current ripping her limbs from the rock and sending Michaela once again rushing down the river, pushing her down, her body scraped against the bottom, numerous tiny exploding needles of pain stabbing into her body on all sides. She tried to scream for help, only for an avalanche of briny, foaming water to flow into her mouth. Michaela squeezed her eyes tight, waiting for that inevitable blackness to finally seize hold.

Then she was floating in midair, the water suddenly gone, not bearing down on her chest anymore. _Am I dead_? Michaela thought for a moment. _No. There's a much more reasonable explanation. The waterfall. The safety guy said something about waterfalls. Lots of little waterfalls, he said. Be careful around the waterfalls._

Her eyes snapped open so fast they almost hurt, suddenly intensely aware of her surroundings. Even as she was falling, she could see a tree to her left, large branches leaning out, ready to catch her. She lashed out desperately with her right arm, missed by a mile, tried again with her left, and missed again.

The water was rushing up at Michaela, ready to swallow her in that merciless tide of liquid and foam. She swiped again with her arm, trying to get to the shoreline, her arm pointing at it, reaching, desperately reaching…

…

Michaela Tilmitt fell through an ocean of stars. They changed and inverted and grew and shrank, like some kind of interstellar chameleon. White dwarfs, red giants, stars going supernova, stars turning into black holes, stars collapsing into neutron stars. Endless tides and waves of stars, like the river she'd just left. Had she just left it? It felt like an eternity ago, so much time spent watching a world of stars so numerous and powerful they would never care what happened to her.

Then suddenly, her vision focused on a single star, medium-sized and round and glowing a friendly yellow. The Sun. All around it, two entities like gigantic trails of stars themselves, all crystal and bright color and neon, whirled and wrapped around each other and endlessly curled in some elaborate, gorgeous, phenomenal dance.

Michaela's vision shifted again, this time to Earth. The entities were there too, continuing their larger-than-life cosmic dance, shedding their crystalline shells like so much cosmic debris. The shards fell to Earth all at once, like a beautiful shower of fireworks. They landed in cities, deserts, tundra, and even one small forest in a certain somewhere that looked rather familiar...

…

She was sitting on the shore of the raging white-water river, Michaela realized. Well, not sitting. More like lying down, face-first. What was that vision she just had? A rain of glowing neon crystals from some kind of creatures that were made out of stars… What the heck was that? She was forgetting about it even now, just thinking about it.

She managed to sit up, shivering from the ice-cold water covering her body, even in the intense glare of the summer heat. A drop of water fell past her eyes, tinged with red. She ran a finger across her head, cringing in pain as she did so, and the finger came back tinged red too, the before pure and clean river water now clouded with her own blood.

Then the pain hit her. "Ow. Ow. Ow. _Ow_." Michaela said to herself again and again, suddenly acknowledging the bruises, scrapes, and cuts seemingly manifesting all over her body. A sizable puddle was forming on the ground all around her, swirling clouds of her own blood swimming in it like some kind of freakish fish.

Well, she couldn't just sit here and let herself bleed out. She had to find help, had to find the girls. Standing shakily, Michaela almost fell over, struggling to keep her balance against the storm of pain wracking her body. It felt like she would black out if she even took a step.

"Pick a target." She said to herself, her voice hoarse, trying to keep it together. "Pick a spot and move towards it. No sweat." Looking around into the forest that spread out in front of her, away from the river, Michaela found her target- a white, aging birch tree that split into two halfway up in to the tree canopy. Slowly, she took one shaky step towards it, setting her right foot gingerly down on the ground, like her whole body was fragile glass that might shatter if she moved too fast.

Then her whole perspective changed. The birch was now only a couple feet from her face. Michaela yelped and almost lost her balance for the second time, but managed to keep it together. Looking behind her, she realized she was now a good twenty feet away from the river bank she'd just been standing at five seconds ago.

"What just happened?" Michaela asked aloud, before shaking it off. "It's nothing. Probably just hallucinating or something. Too many bangs to the head."

Looking around and shivering again from the cold water still all over her, Michaela found her next target- a tiny stream running through the dirt and leaves. She took another shaky step, and the same thing happened- even though she had been a good couple of yards from the stream when she started, she was standing almost right on top of it now.

Pieces started falling into place, right then. "Weird visions brought on by physical or psychological trauma, then sudden ability to defy the laws of physics." Michaela almost whispered, her voice blending with the now far away sounds of rushing water. "I just had a trigger event."

…

_March, 2011_

"Are you still thinking about that old rafting trip?"

Jen's voice tore Michaela out of her thoughts and away from the images of rafting on her laptop. "Yeah, I guess. Sorry that I scared you guys so much." She said, her head down. "Sorry. Really."

"Michaela, I don't want to sound mean, but _grow up_." Jen made a weak smile. "It was almost a year ago. We're all adults now. We forgive you." The more mature girl slipped off her dorm bed in the room they shared and stretched. "I was going to head down to the nightclub downtown with a few of the kids from my physics class. You want to come with?"

"No thanks. I wish it could," Michaela said, yawning, "But I have a big test in Economics tomorrow. I might even pull an all-nighter."

Jen nodded, pausing for a second to stare at Michaela's face before getting her shoes and jacket on. "Don't stay awake too late, M." She said before walking out into the hall and shutting the door behind her.

Groaning loudly, Michaela stood up from her chair and fell onto her bed, face first. She didn't want to admit it to anybody, but she still sometimes had nightmares about that day of rafting. She'd been a moron, thinking that she could handle the more intense part of that river. She still had issues with water; chills ran through her body involuntarily whenever she took a shower.

Pulling her face up and rolling onto her back, Michaela looked around at the university dorm room that she shared with Jen. They were the only two members of that original rafting group that had come here to the University of Connecticut, what with Darcie taking classes in New York and Kayla moving down to Florida to stay closer to her aging grandparents. It was bittersweet, seeing them all go down their different life paths only to break apart their friendship in the process.

She'd been pretty badly traumatized by that rafting incident. After all, who wouldn't be? But it was better not to think about that. After abandoning her thrill seeking tendencies since they'd almost gotten her killed, Michaela had been forced to take a long, hard look at her life and decide who she was and what she wanted with life.

She hadn't had a lot of luck on that front, to be honest.

What Michaela _did_ know is that she hadn't lied to Jen- she really did have a big economics test tomorrow, and she really did have to study for it. Getting off her bed and walking over to her computer, her mind stalled, seeing the images of white-water rafting she'd stupidly left on the screen.

But, with a big exhale and a couple of seconds to let her mind clear, she pushed through it, clicking out of the window and opening up the notes she'd typed up in preparation for the test.

Two mind numbing hours later, she wasn't much better off than she started. Michaela was tempted to get up and flop down on her bed again, the amount of terms and concepts she had to memorize was that staggering. It was getting late, and her mental faculties were seriously starting to flag. Michaela rubbed her eyes and then gently slapped her face, trying her hardest to not fall asleep.

"Fresh air. I need some fresh air." She told herself. Getting up from her chair, Michaela walked over to the big window that occupied the back wall space of the dorm room and shoved it open, sticking her head out into the cool night air.

Taking a deep breath of the sweet, chill air flowing into her room, Michaela took a moment to examine the lights of the city. It really was pretty, if you were into that sort of thing. The only thing that ruined the view was the fact that Michaela could see the building she took Economics in from where she was looking out from.

Lost in her thoughts, it took Michaela a few seconds to acknowledge a scream from somewhere below her. Looking down, she saw a girl, probably younger than Michaela herself, her back to the wall, being threatened by some hooded goon with a gun. Michaela could see another girl in a dorm window farther down from hers, already typing 9-1-1 into her phone.

The police wouldn't get here fast enough. The girl on the ground apparently didn't have a purse, since she was handing over her belongings piece by piece, but the mugger would have what he wanted and be done with it long before the cops could get here.

_You could use your powers_. Some inane voice in the back of her head told her. Michaela ignored it. She'd barely even used her powers since the day she'd gotten them. And she hadn't told anybody, not even Matt, whom she told just about everything. She wasn't a cape, wasn't even a Rogue. Michaela would much rather be an average college student than some costumed crime fighter. The whole idea was a little ridiculous to her.

But… seeing that girl down there, getting threatened by a masked criminal when she was up here, perfectly capable of stopping it anytime she wanted, something in Michaela snapped. Whirling, she ran to Jen's closet and threw it open, rooting through it for something to conceal her identity. It wasn't too long before she found what she was looking for- a domino mask, part of a costume Jen had worn for a dance late last year and then forgotten about. Tying it around her head and hoping it was enough, Michaela jumped out the window.

She didn't have to worry about the several story drop- her power allowed her to rapidly dash in any direction that she had some kind of preconceived momentum in, granting her more-or-less invulnerability for the duration of the dash and a short time afterwards. With as much as a shrug of her right shoulder, she could be twenty feet to the right faster than you could blink.

Concentrating, Michaela used her downwards momentum to flash-dash _downwards_, suddenly vanishing from her position midair and landing, feet-first, on the ground, not ten feet away from the mugger and his victim. The girl turned to Michaela, wild panic in her eyes, mixed with a little surprise. Noting the sudden change in her expression, the mugger turned to see what she was looking at, finding Michaela standing there.

"Who the hell are you?" He said, turning the barrel of his gun from the girl to Michaela. "I already called dibs." The guy was tall and burly, with black clothing and a ski mask that covered most of his pasty white skin. It was almost clichéd.

"You think I'm a criminal?" Michaela asked, momentarily dumbfounded. Well, she didn't have a costume or anything, so it sorta made sense. "Well, I guess from where I'm standing, you don't seem like much of a criminal either. Could the real crook here please raise his hand?" She said next, raising her own hand in a mocking gesture, sounding _much_ braver than she felt.

"Real funny, sweetie." The crook said, undoing the safety on his gun with a _click_. "Bet you're gonna find this one hilarious."

Michaela was already two steps ahead of him. Stepping to the left with her foot, she flashed ten feet in that direction, easily evading the incoming bullet. The criminal watched, confused, as his shot flew through empty air. Turning, he saw Michaela, her fists balled. "Wait a minute, wait a minute! What the hell was that?" He yelled, notes of fear in his voice betraying his tough guy attitude.

"That was me warming up to kick your ass." Michaela said. Before the guy had chance to say or do anything else, she stepped forward, elbow raised. The criminal didn't even have a chance to aim his pistol at Michaela before she flashed forward, slamming into him with a supersonic elbow check. He slammed into the wall and crumpled, moaning.

Then Michaela screamed. No amount of excuses or cover up would suffice, she _screamed_. "Did I just do that? Did I really just beat him up?" She said, mouth open, her tough image collapsing around her. "Holy crap holy crap holy crap! What did I just _do_!?"

"You just saved me. I think that was pretty awesome, to be honest." The mugging victim suddenly ran over and wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you!"

Michaela could feel her whole body relaxing from the warmth of the girl's hug. Eventually, she broke it off, trying to regain her composure. "The police are going to be here soon; I saw some girl inside the dorm calling them. I'd rather not have to explain this whole mess to them. I don't have a secret identity, though that's probably obvious, and I'd rather not have to form one on the spot."

The girl nodded. She had close-cropped black hair that ended around her ears in endless small curls, and was wearing a dark grey evening dress with a scarlet cardigan over it, like she had been heading to a party. _Two hours earlier, this might have been Jen_, Michaela thought to herself, not failing to notice the irony."Do you have any place you can go?"

"Actually, I… Live in this dorm building myself?" Michaela said, feeling dumb even as she said so.

The girl blinked. "Why didn't you just say that before?"

"Maybe because it's not really something you say to someone?" Michaela said, hoping the girl couldn't see her face turning red in the dark. "I don't want to insult you by saying I only saved you because I happened to be right here, but that's the truth."

The girl opened her mouth like she was about to say something, only for her to cut off as they both flinched at the sound of far-away sirens. "I really have to go!" Michaela yelled, stepping to the left and dashing over to the side of the building. She wasn't really great at vertical dashes, so it was probably easier just to head around to the front of the building.

But before she could make another step to head the rest of the distance to the door, the girl's voice carried through the cool night air after her. "_My name is Claire Buchanan_," she yelled, "_And if you ever need a secret identity, look me up!_"

Michaela made the step, flashing the rest of the way to the open doors of her dorm house. Running up the front steps, she managed to remember to rip off the domino mask and stuff it in her pocket before she ran inside- someone seeing her wearing that would make other people ask _way_ too many uncomfortable questions.

As she made her way up to her fourth-floor dorm room, Claire's word resounded in the back of her head. "_My name is Claire Buchanan, and if you ever need a secret identity, look me up!_" She had said.

Finishing the climb up to the fourth floor, Michaela slowed her pace, trying to get her rapidly pounding heart to do the same. Walking the rest of the way back to the dorm room, she mulled over the recent events of the night. She'd managed to stop a crook from stealing the belongings of a helpless girl, and maybe found a new friend in that helpless girl at the same time.

Michaela had never wanted to be special- at least, never wanted to be special in the sense of being a parahuman. But now, thinking about that big act of heroism she'd just performed, and how she'd been looking for a purpose in life ever since the rafting incident, Michaela realized that that tiny bit of super-heroism had felt _good_. It had felt _right_.

With that last thought in her mind, she opened the door to her room and collapsed her suddenly exhausted body into bed, her mind shutting off before she had a chance to make another thought.

…

_September, 2012_

"_The newest design on your costume is coming along awesome, Michaela_." Claire's chatter came in over the phone, practically gushing her excitement clean through the speaker. "_But I really wish you'd be here to see it! I'm so excited!_"

"I couldn't tell, Claire." Michaela responded dryly, but she couldn't help but give a small smile at her friend's exuberance.

Yes, she had said 'friend'. It had taken a few months of soul-searching and a lot of nights spent awake and staring at the ceiling, but she'd eventually decided to do it- become a cape. She'd called Claire Buchanan, in desperate need of someone who could keep her secret.

Claire, as it turned out, had quite the talent at making cape costumes- she'd picked up the trade for her three older brothers, who were all capes, both heroes and Rogues, when it turned out that she was the only one without powers. After Michaela's first called, she'd immediately started working on designs for her first cape costume.

It was never anything major- stopping muggings and thefts, mainly, with the occasional fight with a villainous parahuman. She'd been taking it slow and easy, not wanting to get in over her head too fast, even after it had been over two years since she'd first gotten her powers. But even with the relatively small amount of good she accomplished compared to most capes, it felt good to _be_ good.

But right now, that was all in the background. She wasn't at the university now, but in Brockton Bay, her home city, with her family. It felt strange, being the only girl of her original group who still lived here. She still shared a room with Jen, and regularly texted Darcie and Kayla, but the whole relationship just seemed more… fractured now.

Even so, it felt good to be back in her old stomping grounds, even if her college arrangements meant she could only be here two days out of the week. Right now, she was heading to the Boardwalk to buy an anniversary gift for her parents- the party was next week, but it would be right as she got back in town, so she wouldn't have any time to shop then.

"_Well, I have to go, my brother's calling on the other line_." Claire said. "_I'll see you on Thursday when you get back!_"

"Right, Thursday." Michaela responded. "See you then-"

She stopped as a streak of black and orange blasted momentarily through the air around her. "I have to go, Claire." She said quickly, pressing the 'off' button on her phone and shoving it in her pocket. What the heck had that been? It looked like a person, but if it was, he or she had been _flying_. Brockton Bay had a few flyers, but none Michaela could think of that wore black or orange.

Curiosity overwhelming her, Michaela stole a quick look around to see if anyone was around to see what she was planning on doing next. No one. She was alone. Jutting her knee upwards, Michaela flashed upwards with the upward momentum, then, before she fell back down and face planted into the sidewalk, kicked out her right leg, pointing it at the roof of the building she'd just been walking alongside. Another dash, and she was on terra firma, but now with a three-story vantage point to work with.

Looking out across the tops of buildings, Michaela just barely made out the black and orange streak disappearing down into an alleyway, a ways closer to the Boardwalk. Well, she'd already done this much. Might as well find out who this mystery man (Or woman, for that matter) was.

Running across the top of the roof, Michaela jumped towards the next building, dashing to land securely on the roof. She continued in this fashion, getting closer and closer to the disappearance point of her mysterious stranger. Traveling across the city by rooftop was effortless- Michaela had developed the skill months ago to facilitate fast travel, though it_ had_ resulted in quite a few spectacular wipeouts and subsequent mysterious injuries to be explained to Mom and Dad.

As she zeroed in on the alleyway, she noticed that the suburbs of Brockton Bay she started in were gradually transitioning into the Docks- the backwater sections of the Boardwalk, filled with all the crime and desolation as you'd expect in an area where there was a lot of people desperate for work and not a whole lot of it to find.

Dashing again, Michaela landed on the last rooftop, reaching her destination. She started moving slowly, not wanting to spook the person in black in case they knew she was here. But as she moved closer to the edge of the roof, towards the alleyway, the strange sound of running feet started to fill her ears.

Peering over the edge, she saw who she had come for. The guy- it was definitely a guy- wore a black and orange-highlighted parachutist's suit that covered everything but his neck and head, which was protected with an opaque, spherical helmet, like the one fighter pilots wore. He was running back and forth along a courtyard in the center of the alleyway, but he was running _fast_. Like, bullet train fast. His body was moving so fast it hurt her eyes to track his movements. He ran around and around in that square courtyard, seemingly never getting tired or dizzy.

Then, suddenly, he gradually slowed to a stop, his heavy breathing filling the air of the mostly quiet Docks- scratch that part about never getting tired. He leaned down against his knees, gasping for breath.

Then he straightened up, moving to reach for his helmet. Michaela felt a little seed of doubt start to form in her mind- should she really be staying to watch if the guy was about to reveal his secret identity? And yet, she stayed, illogically determined to find out more about this mystery speedster.

After a few tense seconds, the guy finally took off his helmet. In the moment it took him to do it, Michaela's world was lifted up, shaken, and slammed down upside down.

The mystery man she'd been following was _Matt_. _Her brother_. His green eyes, pale skin, and mop of soft brown hair were all as she knew them. Unless this guy was a shape-shifter or a very good look-alike, it was most definitely Matt.

"He has powers. Just like me." Michaela whispered quietly to herself as she watched Matt wipe sweat off his brow. The whole situation almost didn't seem to be real. It seemed like he'd decided to continue the cycle- she'd never told him about her power, and he'd never told her about his.

This opened up a big can of wars Michaela definitely hadn't expected. The fact that both she and Matt had powers was a rather big dilemma, now. _Do Mom and Dad know_? She found herself thinking, _and if they do, are they hiding anything else from me? Oh God, do they know about _my_ powers?_

At that point, Matt had finished his breather and started running again. _I can't watch any more_, Michaela decided, _have to think_. Turning on her heel, Michaela concentrated, using her power, and was off like a shot to the next building, heading towards the Boardwalk, the destination for which she'd been out in the first place. Even as she did, one thought popped into her head and stuck there:

_I am in _way_ over my head_.

…

_January, 2013_

Yelling triumphantly at the top of her lungs, Michaela jumped between the gap across to the next roof, not even bothering to use her power to get across, reveling in the chilly night air.

She probably shouldn't have been so loud- after all, she was on the job, cruising across the rooftops in Stamford, not far away from her university, actually. Still, she couldn't help but smile- after all, she was sort of famous now.

While stopping a bank robbery by some guy named Powerhouse a few weeks ago, a D-list supervillain who could momentarily bolster himself with a random set of powers, she'd somehow managed to get caught on camera. The story had been leaked to the news the next day, with the local Protectorate team scrambling to discover the identity and motives of their latest mystery vigilante.

She'd kept her head down since, not wanting to get caught in the politics and red tape of the up-and-up cape world, but when the follow-up to the Powerhouse story had been sent out yesterday, she just couldn't resist heading out, despite Claire's warnings.

"Maybe it'd be better if you stayed down a little longer," she'd said, "You're the new meat on the block. All the local supervillains are going to want a piece of you."

She'd brushed off Claire's warnings, though. If the supervillains wanted a piece of her, well, let 'em. She was ready. She'd had her powers for almost three years now, and been a superhero for almost one and a half. A little voice in the back of Michaela's head reminded her that she was slipping back into her old ways of thrill-seeking, but she ignored that too. Still, she couldn't help thinking: _I never did this for fame before now. Am I becoming exactly what I didn't want to happen at the start of this whole madness_?

Michaela tried her hardest to block out all off her doubts, though. It felt good to be good. So she was sticking with it, threat or no threat.

Besides, she had a name to live up to now. The newspapers had dubbed her 'Lightweight', which wasn't the best name, but probably better than anything she could come up with. For another plus, the article with her new name and newfound fame coincided with Claire finally finishing her latest costume design.

Since she mostly worked at night, Claire had designed the costume to be predominantly black and skintight, to blend in with the darkness. The costume had gunmetal grey armor pads on the shoulders, knees, and elbows, to help her make her flying body checks without damaging herself or her clothing. The coup de grace of the design was a large, prominent white stripe running down across the front, beginning at her neckline and extending all the way down to her feet, splitting apart into two smaller white lines at the waist. She'd kept her long mane of light brown hair free to flow behind her- just because the costume was designed for intimidation didn't mean she couldn't afford to be a little feminine. And in a homage to her very first night, saving Claire, she still wore a domino mask, but this one had silver highlights along the sides and opaque white lenses that were one-way- she could see out, but no one could see in.

Yes, her new cape name was pretty sucky. But she had a badass costume to make up for it.

Slowing her pace as she ran across the top of a high-rise, Michaela paused a minute to look over the lights of the city. Some buildings hadn't taken down their Christmas slash New Year's decorations yet, and Stamford still sparkled with neon pops of red and green. Michaela leaned on the edge, grinning as her breath sent little clouds of steam into the winter air.

So far, it seemed like a peaceful night. Even the criminals got festive and cheery around the holidays. More often than not, Christmas Eve was a national holiday for cape factions, both heroes and villains.

Suddenly, Micaela's eyes caught sight of three figures standing on a roof, across the avenue and far below her. Judging by the fact that all three of them were holding big guns, (And the fact that they were, you know, on a roof in the middle of January) they weren't there for a friendly business meeting.

Jumping off the roof, Michaela flashed forwards, popping into the night air far above the roof she was heading for. She didn't trust her power to get her all the way to the other roof on a diagonal- while she hadn't tested the limits of her powers much, and they had a bad tendency to send her whatever distance they wanted at the particular time, but the max distance seemed to be around fifty feet.

Kicking her leg downwards, Michaela rode the momentum, coming crashing down onto the roof, facing the criminals. Only one saw her at first- she'd come down quietly, and another special touch from Claire had been designing the costume to muffle sound. Before he could do or say anything other than raise his gun, another flash step and a swift shoulder check sent him sprawling.

"Whoops!" Michaela said in a mockingly patronizing tone. "Silly me! Forgot to turn the safety off!" She smiled innocently, turning to face the other two criminals, who raised their guns at her.

"Get out of here, Lightweight." One of the criminals said, his rifle trained on her. "We don't want any trouble. Just a couple of diamonds, you see? Just a few."

In response, Michaela dashed at him, slamming her knee hard into his chest, leaving him in a crumpled wreck. "Just a few, huh?" She said, stepping halfway across the roof in one movement, the remaining criminal's bullets cutting through the breeze in her wake. "Funny, I was just looking for a couple of skulls to crack." Spinning around, she pumped her fist forward, using the momentum to dash forward and slam her knuckles right into the unfortunate last criminal's face. "Crook skulls, I mean." She said, amending her own joke, even thought there was no one conscious left to hear it.

The brawl quickly over, the night was once again quiet. Quiet enough that she could hear the sound of an object whizzing through the air towards her. Leaning backwards, Michaela flashed back, barely avoiding what looked like a bullet as it zinged through the air, exploding into a fiery nova as it smashed into the ground nearby, narrowly missing the criminal Michaela had been standing over. The roof asphalt nearby immediately began melting and falling into whatever was underneath. Michaela prayed desperately that nobody happened to be underneath.

Another bullet flew through the air towards her- where were those things coming from? This time, Michaela jumped, dashing upwards, avoiding another powerful explosion. Kicking backwards, she flashed onto a higher roof behind her, trying to find a better vantage point.

Another shot flew by, but this one was way off, exploding into a wall to Michaela's right, though she had to sidestep to avoid getting blown off the roof by the incoming debris. She also finally identified where the shots were coming from- the exact same roof she'd been prowling on when this whole fight had started. A figure Michaela though she recognized was lying down on the roof's edge, brandishing a sniper rifle aimed right at her.

Not wasting a second, Michaela charged off the roof, flashing right towards her mystery assailant. The attacker was smart enough to roll out of the way before she arrived, resulting in Michaela skidding across the roof as she dashed through empty air.

Whirling around, she identified the attacker as exactly who she'd expected it to be- Firepower, a local supervillainess with a penchant for property damage. Her power allowed her to, with a touch, infuse any ranged weapon- from gun ammo to throwing knives to crossbow bolts- with the ability to explode violently upon contact with any hard surface. Her power came with the secondary ability of enhanced aiming abilities, which increased the longer she fought. Her outfit was a mix of ball gown and firefighter gear, with a black and red-highlighted combat vest, complete with a hood that covered her eyes, over a long, flowing gold robe with red and yellow accents on the trim, like flames, and dark black boots. Her hair was long and black, tied back in a ponytail that ended in a point, like a bee stinger, dyed red.

Michaela prepped for another dash towards the villain, but pulled up short as Firepower dropped her sniper rifle, stood up, and pointed a pistol at her all in one smooth movement. The pistol glowed a faint red in the darkness, a well-known indicator of Firepower using her power on it. "I wouldn't move, Lightweight." She said in a husky voice. "We both know I can shoot faster than you can move in to hit me."

The worst part was that was true. Michaela couldn't get close enough to Firepower to hit her before she fired and probably crisped both of them. She glared at the villainess, who just stared in return, her pistol aimed at Michaela's sternum.

After nearly thirty seconds of that standoff, a smile started to creep across Firepower's face. _Why is she smiling_? Michaela thought, hoping her doubt wouldn't show across her face. _Oh God! WHY IS SHE SMILING!?_

The same grin still painted across her face, Firepower raised a second pistol and pointed it straight up, sending a bullet flying into thin air. Dumbfounded by the strange display, Michaela watched as the bullet flew up and up, before exploding into a shower of fire and heat in midair.

The next thing Michaela knew was her feet being thrown out from under her. She spun in midair before coming crashing down onto the roof, grunting in pain as she did so. Opening her eyes, Michaela saw a sizable hole in the roof where she'd just been standing.

Looking up, she saw who'd just made the hole. Saladin, another local supervillain, was hovering in midair above the hole in the roof, his eyes trained on her. He was powerfully built, with dark skin, wearing little more than a loincloth and elaborately decorated boots- not even a mask to protect his identity.

If online forums were to be believed, Saladin was a minor Israeli warlord who'd jumped ship and traveled to the States when his personal city-state went under. He'd since established himself as a low-level mob boss, slowly building his way back up to the top. Aside from his history, Saladin was a powerful tactile telekinetic- he could do incredible feats of mental strength as long as he could touch them, but not much else. In practice, this effectively gave him super strength, flight, and enhanced durability, as long as he knew where the attack was coming from.

Crap. Now there were two powerful supervillains for Michaela to deal with. Claire had been right. She'd gone ahead and bit off _way_ more than she could chew. Scrambling to her feet before either of the villains could try anything, Michaela took a step backwards and dashed, hoping she wasn't about to slam into anything.

Breathing out in relief as she managed to put some distance between herself and the villains, Michaela was about to go on the offensive before someone knocked her feet out from under her. Grunting in pain, the wind knocked out of her, Michaela looked wildly around, trying to find her attacker. No one appeared.

"Whoop! Didn't see you there!" A voice she couldn't locate said, followed by a sinister chuckle. "Clumsy me."

Bashful. Of course it would be Bashful. In contrast with Firepower and Saladin, who were both well-established villains, Bashful was a mercenary, a gun for hire, specializing in tracking and assassinations, his power to effortlessly avoid the gaze of any person or group of people he concentrated on making him an unmatched local cape when it came to stealth. He was evidently using his power on Michaela- no matter how hard she tried to place his footsteps or creepy chuckles, he evaded her eyesight.

Now she was even _more_ in over her head. She couldn't outrun Firepower, couldn't hurt Saladin, and couldn't even _hit_ Bashful. And why were they even working together? These three had completely different M.O.'s and ways of working. And yet here they were, all working together like buddies.

"Need some distance." Michaela said, hurriedly getting to her feet and using the upward momentum to launch into the air. A shot from Firepower narrowly missed hitting her, slicing along the skin of her thigh, eliciting a cry of pain from Michaela before exploding in midair behind her.

The pain was so surprising that Michaela almost lost control of her momentum, coming dangerously close to losing her upward rise and coming crashing back to the ground, but she'd been at this way too long to let something like that deter her. Aiming a foot at Firepower, who was getting another shot ready, Michaela dashed forward, leg outstretched. Firepower hurriedly backed up, evading the flying kick, but Michaela was ready for her that time, dashing forwards and slamming into Firepower's gut with her knee. The supervillainess crumpled, moaning in pain.

Spinning, she yelped and hurriedly dashed to the side as Saladin sent a piece of the roof flying at her with his bare hands. She wasn't dumb enough to try and bum-rush _him_, Saladin would just form a telekinetic shield around his body before pulverizing Michaela with his bare hands. _Have to get away_, Michaela thought, _I've done my damage. Have to run_.

Rolling to the side to evade another thrown rock, Michaela scuttled backwards on her hands and feet, dashing again to get her distance from a third incoming piece of debris. Growling, Saladin glided over to the rooftop, tearing a piece of railing off and bending it into some kind of whip. Michaela didn't feel like waiting to see what it was supposed to be for. Turning around, she broke into a run, only to get tripped by the ever-present Bashful and fall flat on her face. _How did he do that_? Michaela wondered. Investigators had often attributed Bashful's power to some combination of involuntary teleportation and enhanced reflexes, since he always seemed to stay close to his targets as well as out of their plane of vision. If that were true, she was in trouble.

Before Michaela could get up to do anything about it, a series of punches and kicks from Bashful drove her back down, hitting her repeatedly in the stomach and back. Desperately lashing out with her leg, Michaela heard a satisfying grunt of pain as her leg swept Bashful off his feet and sent him crashing to the ground. Just because she couldn't see him didn't mean she couldn't _hit_ him.

She didn't even have a second to savor her victory, though. Saladin came crashing down from midair, nearly on top of her, forcing the railing he'd ripped up into the ground and wrapping it around Michaela, effectively pinning her.

"You have spunk for fighting, little girl." Saladin sneered, exposing a row of jagged, yellowing teeth. "But now you're going to make me a lot of street cred. Powerhouse's people have been offering a big reward for whoever gets your head." He turned to Firepower, who was slowly picking herself up off the ground. "Got the camera."

"Right here." The supervillainess grumbled, producing a thin camera from under her fire vest and pointing the lens at Michaela's terrified face. "You better be right about this earning us a little more infamy."

"I'm always right." Saladin retorted, turning back to Michaela and flashing her another freakish smile. In the background somewhere, she could hear Bashful picking himself up, grunting from his fall. "Say goodnight, little girl."

So that was it. She was going to die. Pretty ironic, to be honest. The incident that had almost killed her in the first place- her trigger event- would retroactively kill her now. "I'm sorry, Claire." Was all Michaela could think of as she watched Saladin raise his fist, about to mash her head to a pulp.

And as Saladin was suddenly off her, his massive frame flying clean through the air before smashing through a window into a building on the opposite side of the street. A powerful gust of wind blew past Michaela's face as it happened, sending her hair blowing in all directions.

Quickly starting to struggle against her metal bonds, Michaela identified the source of the wind- a new player had appeared on the roof, seemingly soundlessly. He wore a dark black attire resembling Renaissance finery, complete with gloves and a cape, with an ornate tragedy mask covering his face and a black fedora. His right hand was outstretched pointed at where Saladin had just been, a glowing symbol that looked like a swirling line hanging in the air in front of it.

Suddenly, Bashful appeared behind the guy in black, a knife in hand. With his attention no longer on her, Michaela could now see his costume- a moderately armored but mostly simple gray costume, laden heavily with weapons and with a closed eye symbol on the chest. Apparently, the guy in black had already planned for that- his other hand was tracing another glowing symbol in the air, this one vaguely tree-shaped, like an open flame.

Moments before Bashful had a chance to drive his knife into the guy's back, he finished the symbol, suddenly coming aflame with a powerful nova that enveloped him and the surrounding air entirely. Bashful shrieked and fell back, parts of his skin and costume ablaze. The fire dissipated moments later, along with the symbol that had apparently created it, with the man in black none the worse for wear.

Recovering from her momentary surprise, Firepower aimed her pistol at the man in black, pulling the trigger faster than Michaela could yell to warn him. Noticing the villain's attack, the man in black hurriedly traced a rectangular symbol with both hands, a glowing, pale yellow translucent barrier appearing in front of him, the same shape as the symbol. Firepower's shot exploded against the wall, temporarily shrouding the man in black with a blossom of fire and heat. When it cleared, he was still standing there, well-protected by his shield, with his left hand tracing a shape with numerous jagged points. Completing the figure, the man in black pointed it at the ground.

Almost immediately, a sheet of ice formed on the ground, before it started spreading, the spread of frost rapidly moving towards Firepower. Before she could react or do anything else, it reached her and spread _up_, encasing Firepower in a pillar of ice up to her neck. She struggled and cursed, but it was pretty clear she was stuck.

Ceasing his attack, the man in black dropped his barrier and started running towards Michaela, who was still bound to the floor by the railing. She tried hard to hide the fact that her heart was beating out of her chest. She didn't know if this guy was a hero here to rescue her or some other villain looking to claim the kill for Powerhouse.

Still, as he ran up to her, she couldn't help but say, "That was awesome, how you took down all those villains." Honestly, why on Earth would she say that? Like she hadn't been stupid enough tonight.

"It wasn't particularly impressive. I was lucky to catch them by surprise. _You're_ lucky you lasted as long as you did." He said in an intelligent voice that Michaela swore sounded familiar.

"I'm going to need you to sit still." Using both hands, the man in black started tracing a symbol, like some kind of simple sword. Michaela laid stock still, watching him form the glowing symbol, but couldn't help herself from flinching as an invisible force sliced the railing holding her down in place. Zipping up to her feet, she found herself wrapping her arms around her savior before she even had considered if she should. "Thank you!" She said, over and over again.

Finally she separated from him, sure her face was turning red, visible even in the dark. "Sorry." She mumbled. "Do… do you mind if I ask who you are."

"Christ." The man in black said. "It's _me_, Michaela." With that, his gloved hand reached up and tore his mask off, revealing a young man with pale features, dark hair, and the comings of a beard on his chin. It was Craig, Claire's youngest (Though still older than her) brother. And he wasn't happy.

"Claire's been worried sick about you!" He chastised. "Right after you left the house with your costume, she started frantically, and begging me to follow you and make sure you were alright. I'm not as fast as you are, you know, so it wasn't easy!" Craig was breathing hard now, seemingly exhausted from his own outburst, his face turning red from exertion, in contrast with the red of Michaela's embarrassment.

"I'm sorry! This…" Michaela groaned, slapping herself on the forehead, "This was stupid. And I'm sorry. Again. Super-heroics is a real rush, but times like this I start wondering… Maybe it's not my thing." She sighed, a sound contemplative rather than exasperated. "Maybe I need to take a break."

Craig nodded. "That might be wise. Claire's always telling me about how you're trying to find a purpose in life. But that doesn't mean you have to rush in headlong and try to find it. I'll draw us a portal to get back home-"

He stopped as Michaela wrapped him in another hug, her face turning red again, this time from something other than embarrassment. "Sorry. For the third time." She mumbled.

Craig took a second to stare at her reddened face, a perplexed look on his face. "R-right," He said, stammering, "I'll get us home."

As Craig drew started to draw an oval-shaped symbol- probably his portal or whatnot- Michaela took a second to reel back and look over this crazy night. She'd gone in _way_ over her head. It might be time, for the second time, to pull back and reassess her life. Maybe heroics, like thrill-seeking, just wasn't for her. _Maybe they're one and the same_, Michaela thought as Craig finished the glowing symbol and it all turned to black.

…

_Present Day_

Michaela snapped awake, gasping, scaring Carly off her lap, the cat meowing in surprise and diving under the couch. "Must've fallen asleep." She said, staring at the time on the TV clock. _2:30 AM_. Her back was stiff from falling asleep on the couch.

When had she fallen asleep in the first place, though? Her memory told her it was around ten o' clock. Matt still hadn't been home, and her parents had been furious, but they were used to Matt sometimes coming home at ungodly hours of the night. _If only they knew why_, Michaela thought.

She'd never told her parents that Matt had powers. She'd also never told him that she _knew_ he had powers. To be honest, she'd tried to block it out. It was way too messy, and Matt seemed to be handling it okay. She'd opted not to intervene.

On a whim, she slipped off the couch and headed for the stairs, quietly climbing up the steps to the second floor of the house. On her tip-toes, Michaela tried to open Matt's door- it was unlocked. Very, very carefully, she opened the door, grateful that it didn't squeak on its hinges.

Within the dark room, Matt was asleep, above his covers, passed out with his head on his pillow. Moving slowly, Michaela searched under his bed, finding his fighter helmet and suit, looking crumpled like he'd just thrown them there haphazardly. Not the first time she'd found them like this, after all.

Standing up and stretching, Michaela looked at Matt's pale, unconscious face, thinking and listening to him breath. Matt hadn't gone out in costume for weeks, maybe even months- why tonight? Why had he started again now? Ever since finding out about his powers, Michaela had regularly perused the online parahuman forums, searching to see if any local cape groups had taken in a parahuman with Matt's description and powers. If they had, she couldn't find it.

Which once again raised the question as to why he had gone out tonight. Matt had talked to her over the phone about how he was spending all his time training for the upcoming track meet qualifier- could this be related somehow? Or something else entirely?

Either way, Michaela had made up her mind about one thing- she was going to protect Matt when he needed it, and she was not going to tell anyone about this, not even Claire. She'd never had anyone who would have been able to help her _before _the crap hit the fan and she did something stupid. Maybe with Matt, she could stop history from repeating itself.

_Stay safe, Little Bro. Don't make the same mistakes I did_.

With that on her mind, Michaela left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

...

**Blaaarrrgh. Too many words and not enough brainpower, even when I'm on vacation. **

**Before I sign up, a few quick facts that I wasn't really able to fit into the actual narrative in any coherent way:**

**Michaela is twenty-one, when this interlude starts she's eighteen (Hence the going off to college thing) and ages up from there. I didn't have an actual age for Michaela when I originally started planning her character, but she has to be at least twenty-one to stay in character with Matt's 'can drink and drive' comment from allllll the way back in Part 1 of this chapter. Funny how time flies, right?**

**Craig is older than Michaela, around twenty-two to twenty-three, hence why he feels the need to be protective over her. Like Lightweight herself, Craig's an occasional hero, but not often, and he DOES have a cape name, which I'll reveal at a later time or whenever it's convenient. Claire, on the other hand, is younger, somewhere between seventeen and twenty, since she DOES have to be of a similar age to Michaela but doesn't necessarily need to be in college herself.**

**The reason Michaela's friends aren't described in detail is because they're Michaela's friends, she knows who they are and what they look like, why bother explaining them to the audience? If they do come up at some point in the future, I'll be sure to describe them in better detail.**

**Lastly, I ended up doing a lot of research on this chapter. The part with the kayak flipping over is called 'dump-trucking', it's an actual thing and a serious threat to the safety of inexperienced rafters. The University of Connecticut not only has a campus in Stamford, where Michaela and Jen attend, but that's the campus which teaches Economics, one of the classes Michaela is taking. It does not, despite what Jen will tell you, have a prominent physics division. Sorry, UConn!**

**Huh. That was a surprisingly long ending commentary. I hope you enjoyed this interlude and look forward to others like it!**

**See ya!**

**-Imageination**


	8. C2P1: Classroom Politics

**Once upon a time, there was a fanfic writer who promised to stick to a weekly schedule. Then things went wrong. Very, very horribly wrong.**

**Hey guys. Long time no see. Sorry for not posting in so long, but the procrastination bug found me anyway. Super sorries! **

**I tried hard to write for Taylor as the narrator in this section. She thinks similarly to Matt, but he's more likely to make assumptions about what he sees while Taylor has a more methodical thought process, so it's not quite the same. Hope you like it!**

...

Chapter 2, Part 1: Classroom Politics

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_, goes the clock on the wall. I stare at it intensely, as if I could somehow mentally will it to move faster and finish up the last minute of class. Ms. Brenda drones on in the background about a rational functions quiz on Friday she's already reminded us about three times. I block her out, her small, tired voice becoming a fly buzzing in my ear. At the edge of my perception, an actual fly flits back and forth between the walls in the corner of the math classroom, its wings stirring the air around it.

Can't this day be over already? Even more than twelve hours later, my adrenaline is still buzzing from last night. No matter how I try, my body refuses to stop fidgeting. I squirm in my seat, hoping it doesn't attract as much attention as I imagine it might.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_. Buzzing flies in the background. My own fingers, rapping a _rat-a-tat-tat_ on the desk below my head. I adjust my glasses, trying not to suddenly jump on top of my desk and scream at the top of my lungs. _Easy, Taylor_, I remind myself, taking a long exhale, _don't start panicking now. Just ten more seconds. Five more. Three_.

The school bell blares, and I'm out of my desk, and then the classroom, backpack slung around my shoulders, in five seconds flat. Ms. Brenda's ongoing instructions fade to a whispering _buzz_, _buzz_ in the back of my head, then silence. My short, timid steps flow easily into longer, more determined strides as I quicken my pace, heading to my locker halfway across the school. Normally I don't go to my locker after school, but I'd accidentally left a textbook in there earlier while rushing to a class. A smart move for Winslow High School's resident punching bag, huh?

Still, though, I resist the urge to break into a flat-out run. I pace myself- speed walking isn't necessary when I'm just going to my locker. On the other hand, I don't slow down, either. I speed past the nurse's office, than the library, get to my locker and retrieve my textbook, all in breakneck time. Turning on my heel and heading for the buses, I start to crack out in a smile as-

"Oh, look over here, girls, it's _Taylor_."

Not quite fast enough, apparently. I pull up short, the smile vanishing from my face in an instant as Emma Barnes, former friend turned bully, steps in to block my path, a phalanx of her fellow popular girls slash groupies following behind her. Emma's deep red hair is as immaculately styled as ever, falling over her shoulders and down her back in a scarlet cascade that's probably worth hundreds at the best stylists in Brockton Bay. I resist the urge to cringe or, alternatively, growl as her equally red lips curl into a proud sneer.

"Emma." I say, slowly, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. "Do you need something?"

"Say, girls, do you think Taylor heard what happened in the news last night?" Emma says, perfectly coordinated with a flip of her scarlet hair. She's not even listening to me.

"Heh, I doubt it. She probably spends her nights in her room with the shades drawn and the lights off, crying." That was from Madison Clements, Emma's ever-present number three, after Sophia Hess. As my gaze shifts to her, Madison flashes one of her well-known 'I didn't mean to' smiles.

Speaking of Sophia, I notice she isn't around- is she still dealing with backlash from the whole Merchants incident? The girl is a total monster and nothing but evil and cruel to me, but some part of me, deep down, still feels for Sophia, now that she's out in the open as a cape. I've read stories about what's happened to capes and their families when their identities are revealed- the results are pretty uniformly not pretty.

"Hey, tampons for brains." Emma snaps me out of my thoughts, somehow managing to make even that immature insult sound sophisticated and cruel. "Are you even listening to us? Got your little head in the clouds over some boy you'll never talk to again?"

"Wait, she's straight? I always figured she played for the other team." Some girl who I don't know and can't name says.

"Yeah, freak." Another no-namer follows up with. Juvenile, even for an airhead. I almost crack a smile as a couple of the girls near her shoot her dirty looks for coming up with such an immature remark, but suppress the urge. Smiling would only give Emma more ammunition to pound me with.

"Why exactly are you here, Emma?" I say, sounding a lot bolder than I feel. My power crackles at the limits of my range, and I can sense bugs in the nearby neighborhood start to move towards me involuntarily, but I freeze them in place- never know when they might be needed, but it's not now. "If you don't have any particularly witty insults for me today, why are you here?"

"Well, _I'm _sorry, Taylor." Emma says, sounding like a frustrated babysitter explaining some small rule to her pack of unruly kids. "I just wanted to tell you about what happened last night at the Docks, with the ABB."

_I should know. I was there_. As if I'd say that, though. "And?" I ask.

"Some bunch of rookie heroes took down Lung and Oni Lee." Emma goes on. "When the PRT got to the site, they found the two guys unconscious, with a note from somebody called…" She paused, lost in thought.

"The Paladins." Madison filled in, her Cheshire cat grin spreading even wider. "It said '_Here's a little something for the PRT, courtesy of the Paladins_'."

"Thank you, Mads." Emma says, though her eyes betray the fact that she's annoyed at getting upstaged by Madison.

"Why are you telling me all this, Emma?" I ask, again forcing my bugs down as my power starts involuntarily drawing them to me a second time.

"Because my dad's a lawyer and he got us on the site." Emma informs, rolling her eyes. "He's a lot more helpful to us and to society than your deadbeat of a dad."

My fists clench, and then relax as I stare steadily at Emma's haughty face. "No. Emma. _Why _are you telling me this? Why here? Why now?"

"I'm hurt, Taylor." Emma's face warps itself into a hurt look that could probably fool any teacher or staff member in the school with half the effort. "I was just about to tell you that someone spray-painted love notes about the ABB all over the back wall outside the gymnasium, saying horrible things, like they'd kill whoever was responsible for the arrests, and then signed your name at the bottom."

My body turns cold. Emma was never shy about the public embarrassment, but she'd spray-painted stuff about me being obsessed with the ABB all over the school walls? "That's low, even for you." I say, my mask of being submissive finally dropping.

"Like I said, Taylor, I don't know who did it. But they didn't leave anything to clean it up with, so have fun cleaning it up!" With a haughty laugh, Emma turns on her heel and starts walking down the hallway, the rest of the girls immediately forming up behind her.

Then they stop. Wait, what? As I look over Emma and Madison's shoulders, I see a tall guy standing in front of them, his arms crossed. He's powerfully built, but not overly muscular, with a broad chest and shoulders to contrast his lanky arms and legs. He has short, messy, light brown hair and pale green eyes, which are glaring right at Emma. His skin is pale, with a light dusting of freckles around his nose and under his eyes. Most notably is his clothing, a loose-fitting t-shirt with _Winslow High Track and Field_ emblazoned on it in the school's blue and gold colors, and jogging shorts, which sport similar colors.

_Hang on a second- Matt_? I hadn't seen him since last night, after he'd had an argument with Coil and flown off, but not before promising to see me in school tomorrow- by which I mean today.

I'd been hoping to have been able to thank him again after he'd saved me from Lung last night. God, my life had flashed before my eyes- that big bully had been about to squash me flat against the wall, but Matt had swooped in- literally- and saved me. I'd spent the rest of the night kicking myself about being so useless- I'd wasted all of my bugs early on in the fight, hoping I would be fast enough to overpower him this time, unlike our first go-around last week. It was embarrassing.

"Going somewhere?" Matt asks, his eyes fixed on Emma. He's not happy.

"Well, duh." Emma responds. "And aren't you on the track team or something? Shouldn't you be running around on lines in the back of the school?" A few of the girls behind her giggle.

"Turns out the coach is sick. No practice today." Matt responds. "So I managed to get here in time to say hi to you. Funny how things work out like that, huh? Like how that spray paint somehow managed to get on the back of the gym, just like that? It was pretty fancy. Looks like a bunch of guys would've had to take a lot of time out of their busy schedules to make it. Or should I say a bunch of _girls_." His eyes narrow into angry slits.

Emma stutters for a second, obviously trying and failing to take control of the situation. I'm laughing out loud on the inside, seeing her struggle- Emma is used to being able to bat her eyes or show a little cleavage and get guys to do whatever she wants, but it's not working here. I have to say, it's freaking hilarious.

"Like I told the loser over there," Emma finally responds, pointing to me, "I just happened to be walking by when I saw it." The sound of her making a worried swallowing sound is audible even from where I'm standing, a good twenty feet away. "I was just trying to be nice. I can be nice to you, too. If you're not going to track, you should probably be heading for your bus, right? Wouldn't want a couple of pretty girls like us to keep you waiting."

Matt just stares at Emma, not flinching. Then he nods, slowly. "Alright. I'll leave. But just let me tell you one thing: If I ever see you doing something like that again, I have no problems personally dragging you and anyone else, by your hair, to the principal's office."

Emma laughs, a scornful, well-prepared sound that goes up and up in pitch and volume. "Is that a threat?" She asks, her voice suddenly low and dangerous. "My dad's a lawyer."

"Not a threat. Just a fact." Matt says, shrugging. Before Emma can come up with any more witty retorts, he shoves past her, moving in my direction. The surprise of the impact knocks Emma over, sending her crashing to the ground with a yelp of pain. I stifle an urge to laugh out loud at the sight. A few of the nearby girls rush to her aid, while the rest quickly scramble to get as far out of Matt's way as possible.

At that moment, I realize that I've just been standing there, watching a bully and a kinda-sorta friend battle over me. My feelings of surprise and confusion at Matt swooping in to save me (Again) and anger at Emma's cruel prank battle for centerpiece of my emotions, with neither force gaining any ground. I'm still standing there, a little dumbfounded, when Matt reaches me, grabbing me gently by the arm, and leads me into another nearby hallway, empty save for a pair of girls chatting in a corner, both of whom barely even look our way as we enter.

"You okay?" Matt asks, breaking me out of my stupor. "I was by the track and saw that graffiti all over the wall, figured I had to find you. When I got there, you were already surrounded by all those girls…" He trails off, his face turning red, from… I don't know, embarrassment, maybe? I don't know Matt well enough to tell. "I should have done something, or said something sooner. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm fine, really." I say, leaning against a wall. "The graffiti's mean and all, but on the emotional level, it's pretty tame compared to some of the stuff Emma's put me through. She's probably running low on material, what with Sophia not around and all the craziness going on from last night."

Matt nods, some of the red in his face disappearing. "Emma Barnes. That's the girl that torments you all the time? What's the story with her?"

"Believe it or not, we used to be best friends. Never needed anyone but each other. Taylor and Emma, inseparable. And then…" I answer, letting out a deep sigh as I prepare to tell one of the most heart-wrenching stories in my life. Even after two years of this, I'm still not completely over what Emma did, way back then. "It was two years ago, in the summer. I was at camp, talking to her over the phone. She hung up suddenly, and then she stopped returning my calls. After I got back, I went to see her right after I had dinner with my dad. She was with Sophia, who I'd never met or even heard about before. Sophia started bullying and taunting me, and I thought Emma was going to step in and defend me any second. Instead, completely of the blue, she started calling me weak, useless, stupid, saying she'd never wanted to be my friend in the first place- all the things you'd never expect or want to hear from a best friend. Even since then, it's been like what you just saw." My voice cracks a little bit, finishing off the story, and I force back tears- I am not going to cry about it. Not here and not now. I've already shed plenty of tears on the subject.

Abruptly, Matt pulls me into a hug, surprising me with that one action more than anything else he's already done. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry." He says, finally letting me go after an awkwardly long time. "It must've taken a lot to talk about all of that."

"You have no idea." I respond, biting my lip. "But it feels good to talk about it with someone who'll actually listen. Thanks. One thing, though, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Shoot."

"Why did you help me?" I ask, staring at Matt right in those green eyes of his. "It's obvious that you cut track to come find me. And then you stood up to Emma Barnes, the number one girl in school."

"First of all," Matt says, crossing his arms. "I didn't cut anything. I was telling the truth about the coach being sick. I was out by the track because I was going to practice."

"But even then," I point out, "you could've just been one more face in the crowd, watching as they taunted me. Why'd you help?"

"Because we're heroes, Taylor. It's what we do- help the people who need it. And excuse me for saying so, but I've never conformed to the stereotype that standing up to mean girls with big boobs and no muscle mass is an ungentlemanly thing to do." Matt chuckles, with a sound that's completely the opposite of Emma's laugh- honest and down to earth, laughing at and appreciating the little things in life.

I laugh with him, the sound coming out of me far easier that it has in ages. "Thank you for that."

"For what?" Matt raises his eyebrows in confusion.

"For giving me a reality check. It's nice to know that, once in a while, when someone's being bullied, the whole world doesn't suddenly contract bystander syndrome." I smile widely, trying to reassure Matt that I'm thankful. He deserves it.

Matt smiles back. "We should probably go and take care of that graffiti. Someone's bound to see it eventually."

"Sounds like a good idea. After you?"

Matt nods and starts walking towards the doors leading out onto the practice field. I fall into step beside him. We're close to even in height, but he's maybe an inch or so taller than me, so I still have to look up to talk to him.

"Not sure if you heard, but apparently Coil gave us a name." I say, the thought popping into my head suddenly. "He called us- what did Madison say- the Paladins."

"The Paladins." Matt says thoughtfully. He's still looking ahead as we walk, but it's obvious, even to me, that he's turning it over in his head. "Probably better than anything I can come up with. I'm terrible with names."

"You're telling me." I say, chuckling. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to come up with a good name for a superhero that controls _bugs_? They're not exactly threatening. What would I call myself that isn't lame or campy? Hive? Queen? Swarm? I thought I had decided on Black Widow for a little while, but I'm definitely stealing that from somewhere, I can just tell."

We come up to the doors as I finish my monologue, Matt pushing one door open as he talks back to me from over his shoulder. "Making a cool name for speedsters isn't much easier, you know. Not because there aren't any good names, but because all of them are taken." As we walk out of the building, he points over to the right side of the gymnasium, which doesn't really face anything other than a few run-down apartments. Winslow High isn't exactly in the best part of town. "It's over on that side."

As we walk, our feet tapping lightly on the pavement of the sidewalk that runs around the side of the building, I think about what Matt just said about speedster names. "Velocity, Dash, Strider, Blur…" I mumble to myself, thinking out loud.

"Huh?" Matt asks, overhearing me.

"Just work shopping codenames in my head." I respond, trying to think of more, only for my mind to stall on Blur. "Say," I start, prompting Matt to look over at me, curious. "Your costume's mostly black, right? What about Black Blur?"

Matt's face starts to break out in a happy smile, with my own spirits rising as he does. It only lasts about half a second, though- then he bursts out laughing. "I'm sorry," He chokes out between wracks of hoarse laughing, "but I can't lie to you. That was _terrible_. Maybe we can get Coil to decide on our individual codenames as well, if any of our own ideas are gonna be this sucky." He breaks off into another fit of laughter.

"It wasn't _that_ terrible." I mutter under my breath, trying to think of a witty comeback. But before we can think of anything, we round the corner, and my brain stalls again at the sight of Emma's latest prank.

Emma's spared no expense with this particular gesture- The graffiti prank is enormous. It covers the entire wall, from corner to corner, and stretches at least seven feet high. It must've taken an entire gang of girls half the day to make this thing. The wall is plastered with rainbows of green and red, the ABB's gang colors, as well as their various gang symbols and Lung and Oni Lee's names sprayed on in stylized, flowery writing. Covering all of that are lines of notes, supposedly from me, since all of them are signed with my name. Some detail me swearing to kill the heroes who put my favorite villains in jail, while others proclaim my endless love for the ABB, especially Lung, and all the slaughter and chaos he and his underlings cause. Surrounding the notes are crude pictures of what I assume to be me, some depicting me standing on top of piles of the corpses of the local Brockton heroes and others having me in… rather intimate positions with one or another of the ABB leadership. I can feel my stomach turn as my eyes pass over a chibi version of myself doing something I'd rather not describe in detail with Bakuda.

"Holy crap." I say breathlessly, for lack of a better sentence to describe the horrid, macabre masterpiece standing on the wall before me. If not for all the morbid descriptions and images, some might actually consider this _art_. "I take back what I said about Emma running out of material."

"What are we going to do with it?" Matt asks, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "I'm not exactly experienced with the art of cleaning up pranks. Especially not like this." His head goes up and down, surveying the graffiti and re-reading all of the notes.

"The janitor's office has an exterior door on the back side of the building. We could get some sponges and soap from there." I suggest.

Matt nods, and we start walking towards the office. My mind boggles at the amount of work there is to be done- even with Matt around, it's going to take ages to clean off all that graffiti. My bugs aren't very handy when it comes to soap and water, since all the wet would just bog them down.

We arrive at the janitor's door, and Matt tries the door, only for the doorknob to not budge an inch. "Locked." He mutters, then knocks firmly with his right knuckle, _rap_, _rap_, _rap_, three times on the door. After a minute of waiting, no one comes. Matt turns to me. "I wouldn't be proud of it, or like it, but I could break the door down. It'd be pretty easy, and it doesn't look like anyone's home, anyway."

I shake my head. "It's fine. I have a way in that involves a lot less property damage." Reaching out with my power across the sports field, my awareness searches into the small thicket behind the school, centering itself on the small pond. Or, rather, what's next to the pond- an old, rotting tree trunk, swarming with termites. I grab every last termite with my power and start calling them to me, sending their little legs rushing out of the woods and onto the sports field. Even so, it'd take a long time for them to cross, so I grab dragonflies trolling the pond for prey and add them to my swarm, sending them to scoop up the termites and carry the airborne insects to me. I add a couple of butterflies and other winged insects to grab the termites the dragonflies can't carry.

Within moments, the swarm arrives, a small cloud of flapping wings and snapping mandibles. Immediately, I drop the termite swarm and set them to work eating away at the door, aiming around the doorknob. I direct the termites to bite off and drop the wood chips, rather than eating them, to make the process go a little faster. After about a minute of watching the little bugs work, there's a sizable enough tunnel in the door for me to stick my hand through and grab the doorknob on the other side. Fortunately, it's one of those locks that opens on the inside whether you have the key or not, and the door swings open.

I turn to Matt, a small smile on my face. "That way they won't have to replace the entire doorframe, just the door itself. And who knows, maybe they'll just put a piece of tarp over the hole and be done with it." I notice what looks like a creeped-out expression on his face. "What?"

"Nothing." He responds, a little too quickly, shaking his head back and forth. "It's just… your power creeps me out a little bit. I've never been fond of bugs, especially as a kid, and the way you can control whole swarms of them without even batting an eye… It's weird. And a little spooky."

"I'd argue with you and say it wasn't, but that would be a lie." I say, shrugging my shoulders. "My power doesn't come with a lack of fear of bugs. It still sometimes makes me feel uneasy when I've got a big swarm of the more gross kinds of bugs around. If it makes you feel better, I'll get rid of them." As my insects disperse and head out in separate directions, I see Matt visibly relax. I make sure to send the termites back to their home in the woods, since it wouldn't do any good to have them getting into the walls of the school.

As we walk into the janitor's office, I try to ignore the fact that Matt and I are technically committing a felony right now. _After all_, I reason with myself, _it's either this or have the entire school know about the graffiti by fifth period tomorrow_.

"What now?" Matt asks, looking around the office. It's dusty and a little run-down, like the janitor has been neglecting his own room in favor of the rest of the school. Rather than answering him, I find what I'm looking for- a bucket filled with cleaning supplies, including sponges and a spray-bottle of wall cleaner.

"This now." I answer, holding up the bucket. Matt shoots me a thumbs-up, and we head back out on the field, closing the door behind us. A brief spell of walking later, we're standing back in front of the graffiti.

"Alright," I say, "let's figure out how to do this, shall we? If we start at opposite ends, we can probably get it done faster, though we're probably going to need water if we really want to get it off, and I'm not finding any hoses with my bugs anywhere, and-"

"There's a lot easier of a way to settle this." Matt says, cutting me off. Rustling around in the bucket, he pulls out the wall cleaner spray and the sponges. Working methodically, he sprays and rubs off every spot where my name is spray-painted. Within a few minutes, the wall's completely clean from any association with me.

"There," Matt says, putting the cleaning supplies back in the bucket, "Now you don't have to worry about it, any you didn't even clean the whole wall. No one will ever assume you did it."

"That's probably not going to cut it." I say, a new pit forming in my stomach to replace the old one. "Even if no one will think that I did it, someone in charge of something is going to see this eventually. The principal won't tolerate it, there'll be a manhunt to figure out who. At which point Emma can waltz into his office with a gaggle of her loyal groupies and tell him that they all saw me doing it, laughing my head off, but were too scared to say anything up until now." I swallow hard, the entire scenario playing out in my head without any input from me.

Matt chuckles, though not with a whole lot of humor. "Like the principal going to believe that without proof."

"That's the thing. He won't need proof. He'll be looking for a scapegoat to discourage other people from pulling stunts like this in the future. If anything, being told by someone else would be even worse than him finding out about it firsthand. And Emma's very good at getting what she wants. If the principal doesn't believe her at first, she'll bring in even more girls to back up her claim, maybe even make some fake story about me threatening to hurt her if she said anything."

"So I'll vouch for you." Matt responds, crossing his arms. "Even if she brings in the entire student body to back her up, having even just one person on your side is going to give the principal doubts. Besides, what pull does Emma really have? Is she going to sic her 'upstanding citizen' lawyer daddy on you?" He rolls his eyes at that last part.

"That's another thing." I point out. "You knocking over Emma in the hallway is going to make a big scene. If she has even the slightest bruise anywhere, she can go crying to someone with some pull in the school, saying you hurt her. She might even get her dad to threaten to sue you."

"There you go again." Matt says. "I think you're thinking too much about this. You should just take it one day at a time, not thinking too hard worrying about how what you do one day will affect you two weeks from now. There's no reason, Taylor, that this one prank should be making you lose so much sleep."

"I…" I start before pulling back, taking a deep breath and breathing out before answering Matt. "Fine. I won't worry about it right now. You're right. This one thing shouldn't be grinding at me so much. But if you think Emma wouldn't go that far, or stoop that low, just to get at me, you have another thing coming. She's a monster." The insult feels foreign in my mouth, describing my former best friend like that. On the other hand, it also feels appropriate.

Matt nods, then turns his neck in the direction of the bus parking lot, as the sounds of the last school bus leaving the lot echo through the air. "Well, we're not getting home that way." He says. "How far away from the school do you live?"

"Two, maybe two and a half miles." I answer, counting the distance in my head. "But I have to walk through some rough neighborhoods to get there."

Matt pauses before answering me, his forehead creasing like he's deep in thought. "Well, I live a little more than a mile away. My parents are at work until late in the evening, usually, but my sister Michaela should be home, and she has her car. I can walk you to my house, and she can drive you the rest of the way while I come back here to practice."

"Seems like a long walk just to get me home." I say, biting my lip unconsciously. "You sure you're okay heading a mile there and a mile back? Wouldn't that come out of your practice time?"

"Not if I jog. So you can jog with me." Matt smiles a knowing grin. "And don't say you can't jog a little mile. I know a runner's build when I see one."

"I run every morning. And sometimes in the afternoons, too, to clear my head." I admit, which is all true. It had started a couple months ago, to be prepared if Emma and co. ever decided to try something on me that required me to run away, and had gradually snowballed into a combination of staying fit and keeping from getting depressed. My dad wasn't hugely thrilled that I was running in a city that was less than safe in the hours with not a lot of daylight, but that was when the pepper spray I always carried in my pocket came in handy. It had been a gift from him, something incredibly mundane and cheap to purchase that I still treasured regardless.

Matt nods in approval at my running habits. "Shouldn't be too hard for you to keep up with me, then. I'm just going to head into the locker room and change into my school clothes, and get my backpack. I don't feel comfortable leaving my stuff here. Wait for me by the inside doors to the boys' locker room, check?"

"Check." I say, and he jogs around the corner of the school, disappearing into a side door that I presume leads into the boys' locker room. Rather than taking the bucket of cleaning supplies back to the janitor's office, I leave it where it sits on the ground- the janitor's going to need it when he finds this mess. Giving one last look at the disturbing wall of graffiti and gang propaganda, I round the corner myself, heading back into the school through the same doors I went out through before.

Walking down the deserted hallway, I find the wooden, closed door that reads 'Boys' Locker Room' on it in faded blue lettering without too much trouble. Sliding to the ground next to the door, I take off my backpack and set it on the floor next to me. It's a new backpack, but the same make and model as my old one, after last week's juice incident with the terrible trio. I'd managed to replace all my books and binders, though I'm still working on transcribing all of my ruined notes- especially the journal I'd been keeping on my secret cape identity- onto fresh paper.

Sitting on the ground, my mind wanders. Even after he saved me last night, I still can't help but think that Matt has some kind of ulterior motive for helping me out. After all, no one else has ever helped me before, even after nearly two years. All of them bribed or seduced or threatened into compliance and becoming a bystander by Emma, Sophia, Madison, or a combination of the three. _Why is Matt different_? _Why him_? _Why now_?

A minute passes, maybe two. I look up from my seat on the floor as the doors leading out onto the sports field open again. I expect to see Matt walking through them, but instead see a tall guy in gym clothes with a close-shaved head of blonde hair. He has a runner's build, similar, to Matt's, with a broad chest and long limbs, but he's more muscular than Matt. Wiping the sweat from his brow, it takes a moment for him to notice me. "Who are you?" He asks, his judging gaze skewering me. "Waiting to get a look at some buff studs in the locker room or something?"

I'm saved from having to answer that question, as Matt walks through the locker room door not a moment later, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, with a backpack slung over his shoulder. It takes less than half a second for his face to contort into an annoyed glare upon seeing the blonde guy. "Hey, Aron." He says, his voice just barely holding onto any shreds of civility.

"Woah, Tilmitt." Aron, says, holding up his arms in mock surprise. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Must be a lucky guy, landing a freaky, gawky nerd girl like her."

I'm so used to hearing things like that from the trio that the juvenile insults barely even faze me, but Matt quickly fires back. "One, Aron, she's not my girlfriend. Two, you probably think you're cool with your hard-worked jogger look, but you and I both know that I'll still run faster than you no matter how hard you run or how much you play buddy-buddy with the coach."

Aron opens his mouth to respond, closes it, and opens it again, in a continuous cycle, seemingly mollified by Matt's insult. Before he can manage to put together a legitimate response, Matt whirls and stocks down the hallway, speed-walking away from the blonde kid. I quickly follow in his footsteps, running a little to keep up with the track athlete. By the time I manage to successfully catch up to him and he's slowed to a walking pace, we're practically already out of the front door. "You want to explain to me the history between you two?" I ask, panting a little bit from the sudden exercise. I hope I haven't winded myself too much already, if Matt's still planning on jogging the way to his house.

"There's not a whole lot to tell." He responds. "Aron's from Arcadia, thinks he's the hottest set of running legs on the planet. I've made it my personal mission to prove him wrong."

I nod, only somewhat satisfied with his answer. Is there something he's not telling me? But I decide to shelve it for later. "Are we still running?" I ask. I'm not terribly looking forward to it, but it should be some decent exercise, and if it makes Matt happy, all the better for me.

Matt's sullen expression immediately melts into a warm smile at the mention of running. "Yeah," He says, his footsteps picking up into a light jog, "let's run."

I quickly fall into step beside him, our sneakers pounding out a steady rhythm on the sidewalk. We leave the school grounds, heading down the sidewalk into the residential part of South Brockton Bay. I stay slightly behind Matt, letting him guide the way, being careful not to crash into him. In return, he sets a good pace, not quite running while still a good deal faster and more straining than walking. _If this is how he usually does this, he'd be a good running partner_, I think to myself.

As we stop to catch our breath at a traffic light, I ask Matt a question that's been bouncing around in the back of my head since he mentioned something before. "So, your older sister, Michaela, right?" Earning a nod from that, I press on. "Is she like… well, us? Is she a parahuman?"

Matt snorts quietly, though his face takes on a bit of a dreamy quality. "No. She doesn't have powers. And even if she did, I'd know. We tell each other everything."

"Aside from the fact that you have powers?" I ask, reading the expression on his face. "Your parents don't know about your powers or your alter-ego, do they?"

"Do yours?" Matt asks, turning his head from watching the road to staring at me. "Sorry. That probably came out as mean. I'm just trying to point out that everyone has something they keep from everyone else.

"True." I say, nodding. "No bad feelings. How far is it to your house from here?"

"About twelve blocks, that away." He says, pointing across the intersection. Just then, the traffic light turns green, going in our direction, and we resume the jog.

With our feet pounding the pavement once more, my concentration temporarily gets thrown off as my bugs pick up something, just at the limits of my roughly five-block range. I find a woman, whose features could place her age anywhere from seventeen to thirty-five, walking down the street, with the gentle breeze in the air stirring the brown overcoat she's wearing. There isn't particularly anything wrong with a woman taking a walk, but so few people do in Brockton's residential areas, since there really isn't much to see. She suddenly quickens her pace, a lackadaisical stroll transitioning into a light jog, at much the same pace that Matt and I are going. My bugs are unable to get a handle on that coat of hers for too long- every time they manage to latch on, after a moment or so, she twists her body in exactly the right way that throws them off. I try insects in sets of two, and then three, but nothing's doing. She just keeps shaking them off. It's the strangest thing.

As Matt and I make our way down the street, the woman stays at the limit of my range, slipping in and out of the extremities of my power's radius, effortlessly evading any attempts by the small swarm of bugs I have tailing her to get a good bead on her for more than a moment or so. I refrain from telling Matt at the moment- if I can't manage to keep a good tail on a normal jogging woman, how exactly am I supposed to be helpful against supervillains like Lung and Bakuda? My faces flushes involuntarily at the memories of how useless I was last night.

As we get closer to Matt's house, maybe six or seven blocks, the woman suddenly makes a turn inward, running on a diagonal that has her getting closer and closer to Matt and I, but somehow managing to easily stay on sidewalks, crossing through side streets and back alleys to make up the extra time. I try to get a heavier bug to cling to her coat, but she shakes that off too. Despite my best efforts, I'm unable to slow her down, the woman moving with an unearthly grace and fluidness of movement that seems vaguely familiar and yet completely unknown.

At that point, I decide to tell Matt. This woman is obviously following us, despite the fact that she shouldn't be able to know where we are, judging by how far she is from us now. Does she have powers of some sort? Is she maybe someone sent by Coil to tail us? Or maybe something else entirely?

"We need to stop." I say to Matt, who pulls out of his jog and turns around, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "There's someone following us. Don't bother looking around," I say quickly, pre-emptively guessing his reaction to look behind and around us, "I can see them with my bugs. It's a woman, somewhere in the neighborhood. Don't ask me how, but she's somehow keeping my bugs from staying on her. I can only find her for brief flashes of time. But she's coming this way."

"What does she look like?" Matt asks.

"She's tall and slim, like me, but more… well-rounded in the chest area," I say, bringing up my own feelings of inadequacy about my relatively flat, uninteresting figure, "with short hair. Why?  
>Do you think you know her, maybe?"<p>

"Where is she right now?" Matt asks, ignoring my questions.

"Two blocks up, two blocks right. She's just standing there. Stopped the same time we did." I realize the facts of those two sentences even as I say them.

Nodding, Matt does a quick 180 turn, surveying our surroundings. Then he dashes off, his form quickly vanishing down the street as he speeds towards our mystery stalker at super-speed.

"Damn it, Matt! Wait for me!" I yell, breaking into a run after him. I have no idea who this mystery girl is, but I have strong doubts she's here to throw us a party and shower us with presents. Eschewing the sidewalk, I jump onto the road, calling on my bugs to scope out the straightest line I can find without being seen towards the girl. Nearly at the same time, my bugs and my eyes find a low fence that is directly in the path towards the girl. I leap over the fence, dashing across a sparsely decorated backyard, while in the process evading a little Chihuahua that yaps at my heels but does nothing more. I jump over the back fence, landing in an alleyway between the fences on both sides. Heart pounding, I run out on the sidewalk, emerging a couple dozen feet away from the girl, who's now standing right in front of Matt.

"Don't run away like that!" I chide, running over to stand by him. I take the opportunity to warily scrutinize the woman who's been following us. She's tall and slim, like I'd thought, wearing a brown raincoat that obscures much of her body, and dark yellow boots. Her hair is pale brown, like Matt's, and cut short, around her ears. I briefly assume she might be Matt's sister before noticing the wary, annoyed look he's shooting at her.

"Let me repeat my question for Taylor. What do you want with me here?" He asks, his voice low and dangerous.

"Well, now that you're both here, I'll tell you." The woman's accent seems vaguely British, but I can't really tell, not to mention the entirely real possibility that she's faking it. She stands on her tiptoes, adding to her already considerable height, balancing in an effortless way that again seems vaguely familiar to me. I swear I've seen that before. Where have I seen that before? "My boss, who you both probably know is Coil, is holding a little bash in an hour, and you're both invited."

"Yeah, I assumed that you worked for Coil after you gave me a note signed by him yesterday." Matt says, ignoring the seeming invitation to some kind of party. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Let me see if I can remind you." In one smooth movements, the girl contorts backwards, flipping head over heels before effortlessly landing once again on her feet, now a little bit farther away from the two of us. She goes back to standing on her tiptoes, then. That effortless grace, that tendency to stand on tiptoes. Last night, tiptoes, harlequin costumes, cigarettes…

"Circus?" I ask, a little bewildered at my own discovery.

"In the flesh." Circus responds, a wide grin spreading across her face. "My real name's Mollie. Of course, don't tell anyone, otherwise I'd have to kill ya. For real." The grin spreads impossibly wider. "Sorry for confusing you before, Taylor, but it was the only way I could manage to get you two here, where's there's no chance of surveillance."

"How exactly did you know that doing that would get us to this exact spot?" I ask, bewildered.

"That's for Coil to know and us to salivate over, I'm afraid." Mollie's devilish grin transfers into an expression that looks almost melancholy.

"Well, in that case, nice to meet you, 'Mollie'." Matt asks. "So what exactly does Coil want with us? To invite us to some sort of party. Excuse me for saying so, but I'm pretty sure I never actually agreed to working with him."

"Oh, Coil is quite sure that you'll be willing to help him with this, Matt." Mollie responds, the grin returning.

"Oh, yeah? And why is that?"

"Because it involves the mayor's niece, Dinah Alcott. And if you don't get to the party soon, there's a pretty good chance she's going to die."

...

**Dinah Alcott is in danger? Gasp! The plot thickens!**

**As an ending commentary, I've decided to share some of my author's notes on Circus. In canon, it's heavily implied that Circus is a male transvestite, but no one's sure, not even Tattletale. For this fic, I decided to mess with that by just having Circus as a girl all the times. I also gave him/her a first name. If you guys are lucky, I might even throw in a last name for free!**

**The next chapter brings back in the rest of the main cast and might even have an appearance by Taylor's dad, but it depends. As always, keep reviewing, following, and fav'ing!**

**See ya!**

**~Imageination (I have decided that tildes are cool and am rolling with it)**


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